


Burn

by arnediadglanduath, Darksilversilhouette



Series: Visions of Nirvana [1]
Category: Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bondage, Character Study, Childhood Trauma, F/M, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad and Happy, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, Torture, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-03-24 12:20:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 24
Words: 175,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13811082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arnediadglanduath/pseuds/arnediadglanduath, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darksilversilhouette/pseuds/Darksilversilhouette
Summary: A victory is celebrated at Shinra; three First classes-elite members and heroes-attend...as is expected of them.This is the aftermath of a single action that leads to a very complicated tale, and an even more complicated relationship.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This was a story I had written some years ago. I had these images all piling up in my head about how it would continue, but because of a personal reason, I couldn't do it. Then the amazing Arnediadglanduath came along, I asked them to help me with writing, and so far it's turned into a very joyful endeavor for me; also it's turning into the longest piece I've ever written But I can only accept half the credit here. So, Arnediadglanduath, thanks for staying awake and writing all those long hours, pouring your emotions and skills over this!  
> One more thing before we begin, POV changes every other chapter from Genesis to Sephiroth. I hope that as much of a joy this has been for us to write and bring this to you, you enjoy reading it!  
> 

Half empty bottles, glasses stained with lipstick, ashtrays and cigarette butts were scattered across the room, here and there, on the nightstand, beside the king sized bed.

_It hadn't been the most expensive hotel, but it had been somewhere he could spend some nights away from Shinra, and at the same time,_ _be_ _in Midgar._

_He had been furious, seething with rage when he had first set foot in the room. It hadn't just been one object that fueled his anger, there were quite a few. His hands had been trembling so much that he hadn’t been able to light the cigarettes; his breaths too fast that he coughed with each inhale._

_Could it have been any more outrageous? Any more provoking?_

_It had been his party, the celebration of his victory; it had been his day and yet…_

_He had been pushed in the shadows again, mocked, belittled by the president's words and the arrival of his poster boy. In a blink of an eye, he had been shoved out of the spotlight, bereft of the title he had been about to receive, stopped just a step away from achieving his goal._

_It hadn't been the only reason._

_It was what_ he _had done._

He _could have rejected it._ He _could have rejected the offer, and yet he hadn't. And_ He _had smiled, again and again and again… Without sparing a single glance at him._

_Ignoring him._

_Igniting him._

Betraying _him._

_Genesis hadn't smiled at the cameras. He hadn't even tried to act. He hadn't tried to at least seem happy._

_He had stood there, rooted to his place… The roars of laughter, the nonstop chatter, the music had faded in the background, the sea of elegant suits and dresses blurring out of focus as he had just watched_ him _from far._

_He had been burning with rage._

_Betrayed._

_If that had been the reaction they had wanted to get, then they certainly did, and they had the rest of the party to celebrate. He hadn't cared about it. He hadn't wanted any of it._

_He had just left, not bothering to look back. Not bothering to respond when they had called after him, not bothering if they sent anyone after him. He had paid for the room more than they had asked for, just to be left unnoticed, and in peace. He hadn't answered any calls that hadn't been necessary._

_Drinking. Smoking._

_Pacing up and down the room._

_Seeing that he couldn't keep the anger at bay by his_ normal _means, he had chosen to vent it_ differently _._

_His charm, his looks, his fame, and most importantly his money were enough to get him people who'd die to sleep one night with him._

It just seemed that he had gone too far. Or maybe not.

They were even now, weren't they?

An eye for an eye.

He tried to free his hands.

_At night, he'd lay there in the bed, hair disheveled, the sheets ruffled around his naked body as he had sipped slowly at his drink, watching with hooded eyes as his lovers fought with each other over his affection. They had torn at each other's clothes, snatched at each other's hair until he had been bored with their games. Then they’d come to him, bathing him in their heat, covering every inch of his body with kisses, caresses, begging him to fuck them._

_They were whores, and they had deserved to be treated as such._

_There had been no tenderness, no emotion. There had been no need for it._

_It had been but a game. A means. Nothing more._

_He had thought it would save him. That it would make him forget. That it would abate his anger._

_It hadn't. And he had felt how miserably they had failed at pleasing him._

_In the morning, he had woken up tangled in hair, bodies and sheets. He had gone back to the Shinra building, locked himself in his office, soon followed by training room, and he had sparred until he had been barely able to drag himself back to the hotel._

_He had tried harder, had nearly drowned himself in work or sex, only to realize that the flames had risen higher and higher with every kiss, with every touch._

_It had felt wrong. Every bit, every part, every action. Nothing had felt the way it should._

_The touches hadn't been right. The sensation, the kisses hadn't been right._

_It hadn't been enough; hadn't been good enough._

_They hadn't been right._

_He had thrown them out in rage, not able to accept his hopelessness with the situation he had been caught in._

_He had been disgusted, so sick he had wanted to throw up his own guts._

_He hadn't touched anything since; not even himself._

_And now…_

He wriggled, trying to free his hands from the too tight tie of the rope.

His body was responding to the wet kisses between his thighs, to the frail hands that held his hips, scorching his already heated skin.

A sheen of sweat was covering his body, his damp auburn locks were stuck to his forehead.

The sudden heat that welcomed him made him groan deep in his throat.

She was kneeling at his feet, caressing him, kissing him, licking him. She had been paid for this. She was trying to make him relax, to make him enjoy this, but…

Those eyes…

Azure eyes were ablaze, flames of fury dancing in their depths as they pierced those of the other occupant of the room.

Genesis hadn't thought that _he_ would do this.

He hadn't seen it coming.

And he was paying for a crime he didn't commit.

He was paying for the betrayer's betrayal.

It felt so wrong, and at the same time so right. His body moved of its own accord, rebelling against his every order to remain in control, pushing against the warm mouth that covered him. The feelings were escalating, the pressure building, the temperature rising…

He knew it was those eyes.

He knew it was the presence.

His mask had come up, the immaculate cold metal. His eyes had iced over as he watched back defiantly, the rage intensifying with each passing second in their silent battle of wills.

How could _he_ do this to him?

His lower lip was numb; he could already taste blood in his mouth, and yet he still bit, suppressing any sound that threatened to pass.

He would not give in.

The ropes were cutting into his skin, scraping over his already bruised wrists as he struggled, trying to break free from…

Humiliation?

Torture?

The punishment that was unjust?

No… He didn't want it to feel right when it was _so_ wrong.

He didn't want those eyes. When he was suffering…

Only…

Because of _him_.

He couldn't do it. He had lost it already.

The pressure that had been building inside him exploded, and he banged his head against the wall…

It was no heaven. It was no bliss.

He was plummeting straight into hell, flames licking at his skin.

Mocking, tormenting, scorching.

And…

It hurt.

More than anything.

His breaths echoed in his head, every little sound too loud for his liking. Looking away from the ceiling, he lowered his head, leveling his gaze at _him_.

His chest was heaving, his heart hammering against his ribcage, his hot breaths scorching his slightly parted lips.

Blood was dripping down his chin, beads of sweat rolling down his heated exposed skin.

There was a long gash there, deep inside him, bleeding, hurting, burning so badly.

There was the jagged line of a crack on his mask.

 _His_ eyes were watching him throughout the whole thing, unchanging, unfeeling, cold.

He was burning, aching, hurting.

… _Just gonna…_

Burning.

Hurting.

Aching.

For _his_ touch.

How couldn't _he_ see this?

An invisible tear rolled down his cheek.

… _Just gonna stand there and watch me burn?_

He would never admit it.

_That's alright because I like the way it hurts…_

Never again.

It had cost him greatly, dearly.

It had scarred him.

Never again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics at the end are from Eminem’s “Love the way you lie”. It just felt so right to put it there, since I was listening to the song when I was writing, and it was what inspired me.


	2. Chapter Two

Red hair spread over snowy sheets; scarlet clothes, maroon scabbards and silver chapes strewn across acrylic carpets. This way and that...unsystematic and dissimilar, everything that he abhorred and distanced himself from.

_Why did people seek out hovels like this? ...Places where people were faceless and nameless, libertine phantoms between poorly-laundered bedclothes, liquor-ridden flophouses and tobacco-infused streetwalkers._

_He was not anticipatory to this encounter. Detached. Distant._   _If anything, he was observant. Irritated. This wasn’t his job; he didn’t seek out colleagues to assess their emotional state. But Hewely was strangely deafened to his questions, and he didn’t like celebratory events any more than the next person._

_What would the populace think of their Commander if they knew he sank so low so often?_

_Irascible...selfish...on a day that was purely dedicated to him. And yet...here he was, standing before a door that looked like it had seen one too many strumpets thrown up onto it for addled, gratuitous glut._

_He’d played his part; done as he was told...put forward for the masses who saw nothing but personified ammunition. Being a ‘poster boy’ necessitated the tediousness of being suffocated between the President and whatever sweaty representatives he wanted to ensnare at the time. Forcing himself to smile; to spread his lips, bare his teeth and tilt his head in a way that sharply contrasted the indifferent, contemning emotions that lurked within him. Dancing a tune whose melody had ever-escaped him as they exalted his prowess and finesse._

_Complimenting him._

_Flattering him._

Exploiting _him._

_And he was aware of the bitter irony that suffused the entirety of the event; of the fact that this, initially, had absolutely nothing to do with him. He was aware of the ‘professional’ tendency Shinra had of dismissing his peers in order to collect as much commercial gain as they possibly could. Because he could do that._

_But surely **he** was aware of that. _

_Surely._

_So when Genesis left he’d assumed he’d come back. This was-after all-his function. Angeal had come to him maybe a week before to emphasize the importance of it, to wax poetic on the fact that despite the truth that Sephiroth hadn’t received an official invitation, he should come anyway. Because-evidently-the redhead admired him to a degree that bordered on hero worship, and their continuous altercations were simply a result of ‘friendly competition’ and not a virulent, poisonous suffusion of jealousy and anger. Because he was-apparently-looking at everything completely the wrong way._

_So he’d went._

_Genesis left._

_He didn’t come back. Despite the fact that he’d seen several people leave the main floor to search for him, despite the fact that Angeal disappeared soon after with a worried look on his face, despite the fact that he then left with ‘the puppy’ looking absolutely furious whilst repeatedly pressing the ‘call’ button on his phone. And Sephiroth was left to field questions, to talk a multitude of confused guests out of the venue with false gratuity and an increasingly painful smile. He was left to escort the President back to HQ while he ate out of a massive hoard of appetizers and discussed a tedious and time-consuming field report that he’d fielded to Lazard nearly three weeks ago. By the time he returned to HQ, Sephiroth was angry, but he didn’t bother trying to figure out where the redhead had went._

_Nor did he the next night...or the next...or the next...or the one after that._

_Because Genesis had done this to himself. He saw him in passing, but they didn’t speak, didn’t look at each other. He took to sparring with Hewley, and the older man did the same. It was simple. They didn’t get along. That was the end of it. It worked._

_For perhaps a week, it worked._

_Sephiroth respected Angeal, truly. Because he was dedicated in the field, and he followed company policy to the letter. However, he did not respect how the man kept trying to force him and an individual who-as far as he was concerned-could pass very well for a hysterical, oversized fire hydrant to get along. But he did, and Sephiroth wasn’t exactly a novice when it came to disobeying orders. Even when they came in the form of a request from a burly, exasperated man whose rank was lower than his._

_He followed him._

_To a certain degree, he understood the location. Below Plate...obscure...far away from the intrusive, insidious scrutiny the media gave those who lived up top. Slummers didn’t talk, by some unspoken universal agreement. What he_ didn’t _understand was the girl Genesis pulled off the corner. Plastered with makeup, pretty in a way that was appreciable but unremarkable, dressed like she’d come from a theatrical production of questionable origins. She smiled, spoke his name and batted her eyelashes. He did it like it was commonplace; slapped gil into her waiting palm like he was paying for a cup of coffee and dragged her several streets down to some seedy hostel that looked like it had seen better days. This was all done with a furious yet somehow defeated demeanor that made very little sense considering what they were more than likely about to do._

_At this point, he should have turned around._

_At the very least, Sephiroth should have staked out the entrance and waited. But he didn’t. Instead, he’d traversed ten flights of stairs that looked like they had seen better days to kick open the door and cleave the bed in half so they could spar their way back to the Upper Plate._

_He didn’t do that either._

_Granted, he did destroy the door after staring at it for several seconds, but there was something in him that was reticent about bisecting the mattress. In later days, he told himself-with a careful, concentrated determination-that doing so would have killed Genesis and the prostitute and he’d have been court-martialed. At the time, he’d been focused on only one thing._

Skin.

_So much of it...pale, like dappled moonlight over the sheen of a lake at midnight. Contrasting sharply with thick...scarlet hair; like fire over damask. Dermis...ivory like piano keys, still yet somehow shifting. Bound in deceptively thin rope; hands and ankles twined in coiled silk that betrayed absolutely no give. There was no way she could have done that, he’d have had to tighten them himself. But the way they pulled...the bluish veins on the underside of each wrist...the blush of cerulean under alabaster…the arch of the sole of each foot._

_...Distracting._

_He resisted, at first. And it was somewhat exciting, if he allowed himself to think about it. The way those Sapphire eyes widened, the way he pulled, how the woman seemed ready to run. Sensible…she could never hope to defend him. Yet, abruptly, when Sephiroth was mere inches from the bed...Genesis gave in._

_And it was done with such a great and terrible beauty._

_The manner in which that body sagged against the bindings; powerful yet resignedly acquiescent...how the redhead nodded to the girl; subtly, firmly. Jaw clenched, eyes looking anywhere but Sephiroth despite the fact that he was very clearly simulated. The smell of arousal...male and female alike._

_Touch. The manner of touch, the staccato of sublevel pulse..., a river of hemoglobin under his fingertips. Undulation...the subtle twist of form, the stuttered exhale of breath that seemed to catch in the throat on the apex of release...the clench of hands against silk._

_Her touch was negligible, almost irritant in its softness. She was trying to divest the silver-haired man of his armor...pulling at buckles and straps she couldn’t possibly hope to release. The smell of lipstick across his cheek was distracting...boorish._

_Copper lashes; half-lidded oceans with maelstrom irises looked at him and there was so much_ rage _there...but it was unimportant, uninteresting. Far more prevalent was the challenge, the unwillingness to let him see his reactions...the way he made him feel...if he felt anything._

_Sephiroth moved away._

_He took a seat; not far, maybe a few feet to the left in a battered green armchair with questionable stains as the girl climbed over Genesis, sunk her head between his legs and got to work._ Now _his eyes followed him… **burned** into him as those perfect teeth drew blood from his bottom lip. His response was involuntary, that much was clear. Whether he was aware of it or not didn't particularly matter. _

_There was something unquestionably reprehensible about it. After all, this wasn’t what he’d come here to do. But in the midst of it, in the agitated nebula that was the summation of all that occurred...he found he couldn’t look away. The way the redhead fought it was magnificent, really; with a mannerism of bored indifference...belied by the agony in his eyes._

_Because what_ Genesis _wanted was something entirely different than what he was receiving. Sephiroth couldn’t say what it was, or why it was, only that it interested him in a vague, serendipitous sort of way. It was singularly humanistic, such a demeanor. On another, the General might have found it innocuous...not so in this particular situation._

_The apex of his second-in-command’s pleasure was a curious thing, if somewhat quiet. That beautiful, virile physique became tight as a strung bow; poised on the edge of oblivion. A cry left Genesis’ lips, but it was something more convoluted than carnal pleasure. Twisted, agonized, caught between pinnacle and purgatory; morphed into a tortured...disbelieving thing. Even the girl seemed to notice it, lifting her head to look at the blue-eyed soldier as if he’d somehow offended her sensibilities._

_It seemed to take him forever to come back down._

_When he did, the redhead didn’t speak to either of them; shoving the woman off the bed and onto the floor in a manner that gave the silver-haired man more satisfaction than he’d like to admit. She said something-more than likely a derogatory explicative-but it fell on deaf ears. Neither of them acknowledged her exit; stumbling on ragged carpeting to pick up the scraps of her clothing...glaring at Genesis one last time before slamming the already-battered door behind her._

And that was where Sephiroth found himself; sitting in a dilapidated easy chair in a ramshackle hotel room...staring with a kind of morbid fascination at a redheaded soldier who commonly acted like the earth, stars and everything beyond were something that could be crushed beneath his feet. Now, _now,_ he appeared to be wishing that every facet of the aforementioned would somehow rise above his sphere of existence and crush him into nothingness. It was a long time before the silence was broken. It seemed somehow crass; to shatter the distorted tangibility of the minutes before...to acknowledge the progression of time outside the recesses of the room.

There was a sigh, too loud in the silence that surrounded them, and the flutter of auburn locks as Genesis ran his fingers through them, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke. “What are you doing here?”

Sephiroth narrowed his eyes, his expression devoid of emotion. In truth, he wasn't entirely sure if he could answer such a query; he didn't know the answer himself. Shifting slightly, he opened his mouth.

“Hewley sent me.” He said flatly. “To…‘make amends’, as he phrased it.”

It was half-true. The dark-haired First _had_ asked him to fix whatever was between them. He hadn't-however-asked him to play the part of the serendipitous voyeur.

Genesis raised an eyebrow, still sitting on the edge of the bed as he faced him, his lips pressed into a tight line. Something flashed in his cerulean eyes, and it seemed that he was struggling with words, which was extremely rare for someone as outspoken as the redhead.

“And since when do you take orders from your _subordinates_?” The last word was spoken with the same malice that laced the taunts Genesis spat at him in their heated spars.

The green-eyed soldier felt his own ire rising at the venomousness of the response. After all, he wouldn't be there at all if the redhead had bothered to attend his own party.

“Since that _particular_ subordinate has time and time again proven himself to be both loyal to the company and capable of adhering to regulations, I saw no issue with complying with a simple request.” Against his will, he felt his lip curl. “Though in terms of following orders, I hardly think you qualify as...shall we say...an expert.”

Genesis stood up abruptly, not at all ashamed of his nudity, flames kindling in his eyes.

“ _You_ ruined my party.” He spat. And there was just too much anger, too much hate. His face was marred by the ugly sneer that twisted those lips.

Sephiroth smirked.

“Strange, that a simple party could drive you to... this.” He let his eyes sweep deliberately, derisively around the circumference of the room. “Your fellow Commander was quite insistent that I attend, he seemed to be under the impression that you’d be sorely disappointed if I didn’t. And I didn't hear you complaining a couple minutes ago, you seemed quite... ecstatic.” Yet again, he let his head tilt to the side. “Tell me, is this a common practice when you're incapable of controlling your emotions? It doesn't seem particularly healthy.” He paused, consideringly. “...Or sanitary.”

The redhead tilted his head to the side, as though calculating his next move. “You either don’t really understand what’s happening around you, or you’re simply beguiling yourself into believing otherwise.” Closing the distance between them, the redhead stood right between his legs, well into his personal space.

“Either way, I have to say,” The tiniest hint of a smirk was playing on those lips as Genesis looked down on him. “I’m quite disappointed.”

Well. _That_ was an insult. Though-the General acceded-it could be taken several ways. Leaning forward, purposefully ignoring the glory of the unclad form currently wedged between his thighs, he leveled a glare at the man towering over him.

“Oh?” He whispered dangerously. “And are you 'disappointed’ in my intelligence or my performance?”

Genesis’ lips stretched into a sharp smile, baring pearl white teeth as he shook his head. “Sephiroth, Sephiroth, Sephiroth… Who could have guessed? Gracing us with your presence in this hellhole of a hotel.”

“Tell me.” The tips of those nimble fingers brushed against his jaw, the touch barely there, but there nonetheless, as Genesis’ azure eyes bored into his. “Did you enjoy the show?”

Against his will, the silver-haired soldier felt something in his chest loosen. It began there...in the shadowed recesses of his aorta...spread into capillaries until it effused the entirety of his body. He was intimately aware of the risk, of the consequences of dalliances with a fellow First. They wouldn't be able to avoid each other should need require it, nor would they be able to shove it somewhere lost and forgotten. He was fully aware of the Commander intricacies, of the singular, fiery nuances that made up the individual before him. At the same time, he was equally cognizant of the supplication, of the fact that curiosity was not enough to define his presence there, in a dingy hotel room with nothing but his military uniform to separate himself from what promised to be an undeniably unique encounter.

Gradually, aware of the fact that if he moved too fast the redhead might retract what he was offering, Sephiroth raised his right hand. He let it hover for a moment, keeping his gaze level with Genesis’. Subsequently, he lifted the other and began to remove his gloves. Blue eyes followed the movement, narrowed with a kind of nonchalant curiosity. The items in question fell to the floor and were kicked away by a bare foot. Then, slowly, Sephiroth allowed his fingertips to traverse the inside of an alabaster thigh; across, upwards over muscle and sinew to the jut of a hip bone. His other palm he lifted yet again, thumbing over the slope of a perfectly worked bicep before tightening his grip and tugging sharply. To his credit, Genesis didn't react, though it couldn't really be called acquiescence either. And as he threaded his fingers through thick, scarlet locks, Sephiroth let the ghost of a smirk pull at the edge of his lips.

“And if I tell you I did?” He purred. “Is this my _official invitation?”_

Genesis chuckled, his usually sharp blue eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment as he did. The soft, barely there touch returned as fingertips caressed the smooth skin of his face, a thumb brushing his bottom lip gently. The same curious gaze followed the redhead’s movements before darting back up and meeting his eyes, probably trying to gauge his reaction.

“If past behavior is indicative of future behavior,” His voice was barely audible. “What’s stopping you now?”

Sephiroth exhaled, almost unconsciously, letting his eyes traverse the slope of a graceful-but undeniably masculine-neck, letting his fingers echo the path his gaze had taken... applying pressure slightly when they reached the point where collarbone met clavicle.

“Exactly that.” He said roughly, almost raggedly. “That is what’s stopping me.”

A sigh passed those lips, before Genesis stood up, slowly, almost reluctantly turning his back to him and walking a couple of steps away. There was something about his posture that seemed so wrong, so out of place; maybe it was the way his shoulders slumped forward slightly, or how his head was hanging, a bit tilted to the side. Was it resignation? Defeat?

“You should leave.”

Sephiroth observed the stern profile before him, his lips forming a thin line as tried to read the redhead's body language. Genesis’ posture was closed off; unreadable, distant...but no less focused. He was... disappointed. Not because of the bluntness of the rejection, though that played a part in it. No, he was disappointed because the blue-eyed First continually refused to level with him; because everything they did seemed to border a thin line between disdain and competition.

Because despite the fact that Genesis obviously wanted this, he was not willing to tell him _why._ Not in a way that would guarantee that their actions wouldn't irreversibly damage their relationship…whatever was left of it, if it had ever been. He could appreciate obscurity. If he was feeling especially forthcoming he could say it was something he dealt with on an everyday basis. He couldn't appreciate obscurity for the sake of self-perseverance…for emotional defense in the face of a situation that required emotional equanimity.

“Fine.” He deadpanned. “In consideration of the individual who asked me to seek you out, I would recommend at least attempting to put such pettinesses aside.” When no answer was forthcoming, he continued. “But if you're going to continue this ridiculous pretense of rampant jealousy, we'll continue this conversation in the sparring room.” He cast what he hoped was a nonchalant gaze over the Commander's unclad form. “... Preferably with all parties suitably dressed.”

Genesis nodded, his expression unchanged, however it seemed like he was struggling with words, second time in their encounter.

It took a long time for the redhead to eventually break the silence, his azure eyes sweeping over his form before finally settling on his face. “I’ll send you a text.”

Sephiroth made a noise of discontent, hastening to stand. When he'd finally rid himself of the armchair of questionable origins, he paused.

“For the record.” He muttered. “This-” he waved at the room around them. “-Was not my intention. Regardless of the cause, my actions were less than honorable. For that, I apologize.” The General made to leave before his conscience yanked him back yet again. “...My office is always open” he continued. “To those who understand that there is often a separation between duty and vice.”

He left… Not before fitting the door back on its hinges as well as he was able; but Sephiroth eventually found himself on the streets with his back to the hotel. Still, even though he had all his armor, his clothing, Masamune, and necessary identification...he couldn't shake the feeling he was leaving something far more tangible...far more _valuable_ behind.


	3. Chapter Three

The sound of his heeled boots connecting with the metal floor was too loud to his ears, despite the chitter-chatter of Soldiers standing around the SOLDIER floor or the ones going about their business.

He nodded, acknowledging their salutes as he passed them by on his way to the training room. He couldn’t say he had actually missed the place, because he hadn’t been actually away for too long, but he felt in his element now, finally in control.

The door of the training room swished open in front of him, and he stepped through. No one was occupying the room as he had expected. The room was theirs for about three hours before a group of thirds had Elemental Materia training. He had checked the schedule before sending Sephiroth the text a couple of days ago.

Taking out his phone from his back pocket, he flipped it open. He was early, a good fifteen minutes to kill before Sephiroth showed up. He let his mind wander. Ironically, he knew he would find no answer to his dilemma in such a short while, no solace.

A shudder ran down his spine as he remembered their bizarre encounter. He couldn’t understand it no matter how many sleepless hours he’d lay awake in bed, thinking about that soft yet firm touch against his neck. He couldn’t understand why Sephiroth hadn’t left, couldn’t understand why that emerald gaze hadn’t left his as he had unraveled on that seedy bed.

Genesis had been angry, because he had wanted to be left alone, to deal with it on his own, at his own pace, on his own terms. He probably should have known that was too much of a luxury, what with him being a Soldier First Class and Sephiroth’s right-hand commanding officer. However, he had never expected the silver-haired man to be the one to come find him.

It had been too much.

He had wanted Sephiroth to be there at his party, both because there was still some part of him that still looked up to Shinra’s poster boy as a hero, because now he was his colleague, someone whom he could, albeit begrudgingly, call a friend; and because he had wanted Sephiroth to finally see him as his equal, to finally acknowledge it.

Maybe it was more the President’s fault than it was Sephiroth’s. But he could have rejected it, couldn’t he? Did the demon of Wutai really have to obey every single order Shinra gave him? To be shown around the room like an exotic animal? Did the silver-haired man really enjoy doing all this? He hadn’t wanted to, still didn’t want to believe it. But every time he had looked, Sephiroth was smiling, and smiling, and smiling…

The man who had kicked down the door to his room was so different from the one he had seen at the party. He still didn’t know why, but something kept telling him that this was more real; maybe it had been those scathing remarks. Maybe it had been how out of place Sephiroth had looked sitting in that green chair, his gaze never leaving his as he had unraveled on that seedy bed.

He had wanted the First Class gone from the very first moment he had set foot inside that room. But then again, he couldn’t understand the feeling that had coiled in his stomach, like a snake ready to spring free and bite, when the girl had sauntered toward the silver-haired man. He couldn’t understand how his muscles had gone taut with tension as she’d tried to undo those buckles, the silk rope cutting in his skin before he’d relaxed as she’d failed rather miserably, as Sephiroth had moved away.

He had blamed it on alcohol at first, at being intoxicated, well as much as the mako in his system let him. How else could he explain how wrong the pleasure had felt the nights and days leading to that fateful day? How else could he explain how right it had felt to see those green eyes roaming his body?

When Sephiroth had left that day, after trying to fix the broken door while he had stood there watching him as though he hadn’t expected the man to know how to do that, he couldn’t help but feel as though the walls of the room were closing in on him. Suddenly, Genesis hadn’t been able to breathe, a helpless feeling rushing up to suffocate him as he’d dropped to his knees.

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the other paths their encounter could have taken, if he hadn’t turned his back, if he hadn’t uttered those words. He had been just as unable to erase the feel of that pale skin under his fingertips, as he’d been unable to forget how his skin had burned where Sephiroth’s fingertips had traced his thigh.

Genesis knew that if time could reverse, he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. He wouldn’t have wanted anyone other than Sephiroth. That was what had been troubling him. He was at war with himself.

Something was broken inside him, like the same broken door he had been facing. He had always been so good at hiding his true emotions from others, from himself, so what was wrong this time? Why couldn’t he just bury it so deep down, that he could forget about it?

He had been glad that in his state of mind, he had been cognizant enough to stop himself from doing something that’d ruin his chance at being friends with Sephiroth forever. But they definitely needed to talk about this, whatever it was. The sooner it was out of the way, the sooner he could actually return to his normal life back at Shinra.

Genesis nodded to himself, looking down at his phone. His lips formed a tight line as he pressed a button to light up the dim screen. He had been too consumed by his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed the passage of time, nor had he noticed how his fingers had moved of their own accord to open Sephiroth’s thread in his messages.

The swish of the door behind him jarred him out of his stupor, and Genesis turned around to meet the demon of Wutai.

“I did tell you that my office was readily available.” the General said, raising a sardonic brow. Immaculate as ever, the man in question swept further into the room, fingering Masamune's hilt as he did so. “Considering your locational choice for this particular conversation, am I to understand that your opinion hasn't changed?”

“It’s not a matter of jealousy, as you simply put it.” Genesis studied the man before turning around to pick a location from the numerous choices they had for the virtual reality generator. “It’s a matter of understanding, of accepting.”

He turned around, sauntering toward the thick glass door of the training room. His leather-clad fingers tightened around Rapier’s intricate hilt as he drew it out of its sheath, and he watched over his shoulder as the silver-haired man entered the room. When they were finally face to face, he flipped his phone open, never breaking eye contact as his fingers deftly pressed the keys, pausing right before starting the session.

“Acceptance.” Sephiroth murmured, green eyes lazily observing the Commander's expression. “Of what, I wonder?” The hand grasping his sword tightened slightly before falling away. “Of the fact that no matter what we do, we somehow end up here?” He 'hmmed’ and looked away, his voice lowering as if he was talking to himself. “Poised on the edge of destruction and temperance, predator and predator, circling each other like ships in a storm…” When Genesis didn't answer, he smirked. “Well, where to then?”

Genesis raised an eyebrow at Sephiroth’s last sentence, but it was too late to turn back now. He smirked, the expression mirroring that of the man in front of him as his thumb pressed the button. “See for yourself.”

The claustrophobic interior of the training room started fading away as the digital imagery crawled up the metal walls, replaced by the spacious basement at the end of the winding paths below the Shinra headquarters.

He raised his sword in front of his face, watching Sephiroth just over the ruby blade. “You say predator circling predator, but I wonder…” His hand barely touched the metal as he concentrated, the runes on his sword coming to life with the fire that surged through his body. “Which one would be better?” With that, he rushed forward.

The green-eyed soldier's grin was like a white slash in the low-lighting. Deftly, he sidestepped the the redhead's advance, drawing Masamune as he did so; its blade a silver arc. When Genesis twisted to land a backwards thrust he parried it, throwing his weight forward in an attempt to throw him off balance before leaping away.

“For now...me.” The silver-haired first landed soundlessly before dropping into a crouch. Cocking his head, he let his smile widen, emerald irises burning through a thick curtain of platinum. “Surely your drill sergeants told you a good warrior never attacks first.”

“Surely you know better than to follow everything they say to the letter.” His voice was rising in volume as he cast Firaga, scorching balls of fire hurtling toward Sephiroth. The silver-haired man parried them with ease, but he willed them to return, and soon they were converging on him, a sphere of burning fire obscuring his view of the other First. A corner of his lips twisted upwards in a smirk, as he concentrated, flames engulfing his hand as he prepared yet another spell.

He let it free, and as it hit the bright sphere of fire, he watched with anticipation.

In an enclosed space the effect was rather magnificent. The circular conflagration seemed to attempt to collapse in on itself before exploding outwards in a brilliant display of flame and smoke. The sensation of blazing, stifling heat encompassed the space; creating thick mirage-like waves that made the air seem like it was shimmering. True to the authenticity of the simulation, the 'building’ groaned ominously as cracks appeared in the overhead cement; shuddering outwards before apparently finding some form of stability. The smaller but no less deadly Firaga was left to slam into the far wall, and the simulation wavered somewhat before stabilizing once more. Where Sephiroth had been only moments before was a giant, smoldering crater.

“You know.” A deep, baritone voice purred just beneath his ear. “While you certainly don't lack in style, I have to say I'm a little disappointed with your delivery.” There was the exhalation of breath across the redhead's neck as the man behind him chuckled. It was abruptly replaced by the cool rush of empty air and the hum of Masamune's blade as Sephiroth swung it towards his left side. “Am I boring you?”

Genesis’ eyes narrowed as he dodged the blade at the last moment, his arm raising subconsciously to defend if he wasn’t able to move away quickly enough. He used the momentum to jump backward, landing gracefully on his feet.

“Never.” He deadpanned, his eyes glinting dangerously as he calculated his next move.

Getting anywhere near Sephiroth was hard with the range his extremely long katana gave him. So he leaped upward, a little shy of the high ceiling of the basement, before bringing his sword down knowing that the silver-haired man would have no trouble deflecting it.

He threw his weight forward as Sephiroth pushed him back, aiming blow after blow at every opening he could see. His brows were furrowed in concentration, as he tried to gain the upper hand, but to no avail, as his opponent matched him every single time.

“See, this is our problem. You look, but you never see.” Genesis let the General push him away, now a gaping distance of twenty feet between them.

“Hmph.” Sephiroth stood his ground, blade elevated just slightly off the floor before sweeping forward, closing the gap between them and feinting left. Utilizing a pass back, he swept Masamune upwards and to the right, a smirk that was almost approving crossing his face when the Commander blocked it and lunged, taking advantage of the unguarded space the General had provided. “Let me see if I understand you correctly.” He commented, pivoting to avoid Rapier as it attempted to rob him of his kidneys. “This is all because I do too much, and in doing so I leave too little to those below me.”

Genesis gritted his teeth. Whether it was intentional on Sephiroth’s behalf or not, he couldn’t care less. “Those below you.” He repeated, his voice dripping with venom as he jumped up and over the younger man’s head, swinging his sword in a semi-circle to parry any attack the silver-haired man could have aimed at him.

Their swords connected, and Genesis used his other hand against the flat of his Rapier to push against Masamune. “Why can’t you ever accept it?” He glared at the man in front of him as he held his ground, sparks flying between them as their blades grated against each other.

Green eyes seemed to absorb the light issuing from the scrape of their crossed weapons; absorbing it and throwing it back until it created a strange, unearthly halo around black pupils. The General's subsequent scoff was bitter, uncharacteristically harsh.

“You focus entirely too much on literal definition.” He growled, throwing his weight downwards before relenting somewhat. “You're wrapped up in the concept of 'to the victor goes the spoils’.” The redhead nearly stumbled as a booted foot hooked around his ankle, forcing him to draw back and block a series of flurried uppercuts that were uncharacteristically violent, even for their spars. They traded blows, dancing around each other until a unanimous lunge landed them once more in a blade lock. “Have you ever considered the cost of being ‘at the top?’” Sephiroth spat. “Of the trail of bodies you leave behind you?” Abruptly, he surrendered the lock; twisting until he was several feet away, blade high over his head as he executed a hand over hand gesture before letting it settle into a guard position. “Have you ever considered that by stealing your glory, I'm instead trying to spare you from the consequences of actually getting it?”

Genesis frowned, his lips pressed into a tight line as his eyes hardened to icy pools. “I don’t need your protection!” He spat angrily, sending flurries of fire toward Sephiroth as he moved among them at an inhuman speed. His sword was flaring as he brought it down diagonally, not caring if he actually cleaved his superior in two from his shoulder to his hip.

“Do you mistake me for an ignorant fool?” A sneer was twisting his lips, bringing his sword down, again and again, every time with more force. “Do you think I don’t understand? That somehow there is less blood on my hands than is on yours?” Sephiroth parried each and every one of his blows with an ease that was unnerving, throwing him back yet another time.

His boot squeaked against the metal floor as he skidded to a stop. His hand brushed against his blade momentarily as he concentrated on the spell before leaping toward the General. He could see as Sephiroth raised Masamune over his head at the last minute, but there was nothing that could stop him now.

The force of his attack was almost enough to throw him off balance. His ears were ringing from the resounding clang that was echoing off the metal walls, his auburn hair fluttering gently around his face and brushing his skin. He must have missed the groan of metal and concrete as a crater had formed under Sephiroth’s feet, while he kept him at bay.

“I see.” The General said coldly, disgust bleeding into his tone. In a movement that was almost too swift to follow, the green-eyed soldier ducked backwards, bringing his blade to the floor and forcing the redhead to follow. There was a sharp clang as Rapier's tip connected momentarily with the cracked flooring before being swept up again, but at that point, Sephiroth was already moving again. The wide-armed swipe that followed just-barely missed the Commander's lapels, and it was very clear that the silver-haired First had intended it that way.

“So camaraderie means nothing to you.” He continued, allowing himself to fall into a defensive stance as Genesis recovered himself and charged him. “Cooperation for the sake of temperance means nothing to you.” Leaning forward; lightning fast and agile as a serpent, he knocked Rapier away, letting Masamune guide it upwards to hover in a suspended position as he invaded the redhead's personal space. Silver locks curtained Genesis’ face as he stared into blazing green eyes. Leather-clad fingers tugged at his collar as Sephiroth yanked him forward until those perfect lips hovered just barely over his own. When the General spoke again, it was in a barely-audible whisper. “This means nothing to you.”

Genesis couldn’t help but look at those lips, albeit briefly, before darting back to that sharp gaze. His heart was beating fast in his chest, and for a brief moment he wondered if Sephiroth actually could hear it, before the thought was pushed back to the recesses of his mind. What was more immediate was that he had been defeated, fair and square, and the silver-haired man was standing right before him.

Did he really have anything to lose now? He was at a crossroads. No matter which path he took, he had to let the other one burn to the ground. And this time he had no excuse.

Before he could actually deliberate, he moved forward, his eyes fluttering closed as he claimed Sephiroth’s lips in a kiss. His other hand had crawled up to tug gently on the black leather of the man’s jacket. For a moment-a miniscule, negligible moment-the silver-haired man froze. A thousand racing, frantic thoughts seemed to be suspended in that single space of time; the circumstances that had led them there, the events that were happening now, and the consequences that were sure to follow. Then, as if waking from a dream, the hand that was holding their swords at bay twisted to curl and invade the space between Genesis’ finger and thumb, effectively loosening his grip and letting their swords fall to the ground. The effect was deafening, or it should have been, but the only thing that mattered was that Sephiroth was kissing him back.

His lips were smooth, cool, somewhat hesitant against his own. It was close-mouthed, a little bit awkward and dry...but also singularly sweet. The hand that rose to tangle in the redhead's hair was unsteady; something he was sure someone else wouldn't have noticed. It spoke volumes to the vulnerability behind the gesture, the walls that the silver-haired soldier would have had to allow to fall in order to bring himself to do this. Fingers crept hesitantly along the inside of the palm attached to the General's uniform, like the slow advance of an errant breeze they slid over fate and life line to twine red and black-clad digits together until their hands were joined; pressed against Sephiroth's chest. There was an insurmountable weight behind the gesture, a degree of trust that was staggering considering that both hands had mere minutes before been wielding deadly weapons. A shiver ran between them, though whose it was, neither could say.

When they drew back, it was a mutual gesture...like the choreographed stanzas of an orchestrated dance. Sephiroth's gaze was clouded, only the slightest flush dusting alabaster cheekbones as he appeared to attempt to regain himself. Then, he lowered his head again, though instead of focusing on Genesis’ mouth, he let his lips brush carefully across his cheek before settling them against the shell of the redhead's ear.

“Why?” he murmured.

Genesis’ hold tightened momentarily, involuntarily, as though trying to assure himself it was real. That if he actually opened his mouth to speak, it wouldn’t come crashing down along with the rest of the virtual simulation surrounding him. The warmth of Sephiroth’s breath ghosted over his ear, making the tiny hairs at the back of his neck stand on end.

“Because…” Because what? Because he wanted to know him better? Because he wanted to be closer to him? Because they probably had much more in common than either of them was willing to admit?

It must have seemed like he was about to continue, but he just let it hang, more words left unspoken between them as he tilted his head, his lips grazing the delicate skin where Sephiroth’s jaw met his neck before trailing lower. Freeing his hand from where it had been intertwined with those long digits over that chiseled chest, he raised it tentatively to rest on a leather-clad shoulder.

Genesis could feel as those strong hands, that mere minutes ago were trying to sever his head, brushed gently against his sides before settling on his hips, albeit hesitantly. He could smell the scent that was uniquely Sephiroth underneath the faint after-effects of their spar. And there was something about their intimacy, about how fragile it seemed, at least to him, that made his heart clench painfully in his chest. A sigh passed his lips before he closed them over Sephiroth’s jugular, feeling the full pitter-patter of its pulse against his skin.

A million thoughts rushed forward in his head, and he tried his damnedest to keep them at bay, closing his eyes as he tried to stay present, in the here and now. But there was one thought, one question that lingered behind.

Was he in love with Sephiroth?

A firm but gentle index finger was placed under his chin, drew his head back up in a slow but inexorable gesture. Emerald eyes swept over his visage for what felt like the thousandth time...though there was no brooding, systematic calculation behind them at this point. The silver-haired man’s expression was difficult to gauge, though at this point, it wasn't particularly surprising. Whatever the General saw in his expression, it wasn't what he wanted to see. He stiffened slightly, made as if to pull away before apparently thinking better of it.

“You're...afraid.” This was said quietly, with an air of calm that was betrayed by the slightest hint of despair...made apparent in his eyes and a slight downturn in the left side of his lip. “...Of me?”

Genesis blinked, the slight hint of a frown settling over his brow. He didn’t know what silver-haired man had seen in his eyes, on his face, but he wasn’t afraid of Sephiroth, was he?

“No.” Azure eyes sought those green irises as he whispered, both to answer Sephiroth’s question, and the lingering thought in the foreground of his own mind. “Why do you say that?” His voice was a soft whisper, as though there were others listening in on their tête-à-tête.

For a moment, it seemed as if his fellow First was reluctant to reply. The hand under the redhead's chin lifted to thumb the bow of his lip, hovering a moment before it was taken away and replaced by a soft, warm mouth. Temporarily taken aback, it took Genesis a few seconds to respond, but when he did, he did so eagerly...happy to surrender himself to the experience rather than focus on the emotions behind it. There was more ardor behind the General's advance than last time, less give and more take. The fingers from the remaining hand resting on the redhead's side dug in slightly before relenting; thumb tracing a rhythmic, circular pattern at the hollow of his hip. When Sephiroth tilted his head slightly to trace the contour of his jaw with careful precision, he allowed it; shivering as agile fingers found purchase once more in his hair.

“In the field,” Sephiroth murmured. “You learn to gauge the emotions of your adversary by looking at their posture...at expressions.” Silver hair flooded over the Commander's shoulder as the green-eyed soldier's teeth found the soft hollow of skin beneath his ear and bit down lightly. “...Anger, despair…” A sharp, upward swipe with an adroit tongue. “...Fear; you get used to recognizing it, using it so it works in your favor.” Sephiroth returned to Genesis’ mouth and this time the General was merciless; tracing the seam of his lips until the Commander opened for him...all breath and coiled muscle and feline reflexes. When the silver-haired First pulled away, both of them were shivering slightly. “I'm asking,” The man in question continued, cupping his cheek. “Because I don't want to use you that way, and your expression tells me you aren't sure what you're looking for.”

Genesis smirked, the mask slipping back onto his features effortlessly. He didn’t know if Sephiroth noticed any change in his expression or his demeanor, but it was just the way things were. It had become second nature to him after all these years.

He knew Sephiroth was smart, believed in it, but now wasn’t simply the time to dwell on such thoughts, or his bravado would give out, and he’d descend into an endless spiral of second guesses and self-doubt. So instead of answering him, he got rid of his gloves, letting them drop to the ground as he plunged his hands in the silvery waterfall of Sephiroth’s hair.

In the exact moment their lips met in a passionate kiss, the simulation crashed around them, leaving them as they had been at the very start of their session, apart; surrounded by sparking wires where the sheer force of their spar had torn into the metal walls in a training room that was beyond redemption, at least for the next month.

The door swished open, but Genesis paid it no heed, looking at those emerald eyes, his expression betraying none of the thoughts that were racing through his head. Somewhere in the background, he could hear some guy, probably a technician, berate them, albeit hesitantly for damaging the place. Sephiroth's reaction to their 'company’ was swift and annoyingly professional. He immediately drew back, putting several more feet of space between them before bending to retrieve Masamune; swiping it perfunctorily over his leathers before sliding it into its sheath. Without glancing at the Commander, he turned to the tech, who seemed to quail under his gaze.

“Any extraneous costs for the damage should be split between the Commander and myself.” He said evenly. “Please send my apologies up to Support. We’ll be leaving soon.”

Both men watched as the tech spluttered for a minute before shaking his head and exiting, mumbling angrily to himself. The silver-haired man then turned back to Genesis, and for a moment, he looked indescribably weary. Then the usual, stoic persona swept over his features, a smirk replacing a frown as he glanced at the chronometer on the wall.

“I can see you’re not going to make this any easier than it has to be.” He said blithely. The smile he graced Genesis with was-as usual-brilliant, but there was a brittleness behind it. “I look forward to our next conversation.” Almost imperceptibly, the General's jaw tightened. “Hopefully, at some point, we can find some...common ground.”

Genesis smirked, walking over to retrieve his own sword that lay forgotten on the ground. “Even if the morrow is barren of promises,” He stood up, his grip relaxed on the hilt as he regarded the General coolly. “Nothing shall forestall my return.”

The redhead nodded slowly, in respect to the man he deemed as his equal, even though he wasn’t sure he could say the same for Sephiroth. He didn’t wait around to see if the silver-haired man returned the gesture, his confident strides carrying him outside, where his normal life at Shinra was awaiting him again.

He was looking forward to their next encounter, indeed.


	4. Chapter Four

It was-to all concerned parties-quite apparent that Administration was determined to kill him with paperwork.

Staring at the mountain of stationary on his desk, Sephiroth mentally calculated that it would take him at least a week to sort through the first stack alone. There was obviously someone in Accounting who was secretly plotting his timely-or untimely-death via finance reports.

Because no kind or forgiving person would ask anyone to calculate three thousand annual economical projections, based on the estimated output of each SOLDIER in service. When his hands gave out he would need to learn to write with other facets of his anatomy. If he didn’t fall over dead of exhaustion, he was going to die of full-body carpal tunnel.

Standing, the General acknowledged that this was an unerringly melodramatic vein of thought. Angeal was-after all-always happy to take any desk work handed his way. Tapping his fingers on the edge of his desk, Sephiroth narrowed his eyes. And-of course-there was always Genesis.

He made a small noise of contentment and turned to a cabinet to his right, pulling down two hefty folders and distributing an even count of financial reports in each. This completed, he stepped out from behind his desk and made for the door of his office, pausing only to key in the security lock before exiting.

It was-he reasoned-only fair that he give his second-in-command a similarly hefty amount of administrative assignments. If Genesis was determined to continue bewailing the idea that he wasn't treated equally, well...he might as well do an equal amount of paperwork to top it all off.

They hadn't spoken since their 'conversation’ in the VR room, not off the clock anyway. Sephiroth had the distinct impression that the redhead was deliberately trying to annoy him. Genesis made a point to sit uncomfortably close to him during staff meetings, and during a particularly long and uncomfortable helicopter ride back from a standard reconnaissance mission in Mideel, the redhead had made a point to practically crawl into his lap to get at a pair of overhanging headphones. This was all done with the Commander's signature smirk; sapphire eyes burning into his as if daring him to say something about it.

If he were completely honest with himself, Sephiroth would have to say he didn't know exactly what he was doing. Genesis was practically a celebrity for his ‘romantic’ endeavors alone. He himself had very little experience, save for when the need hit him hardest. Escorts were expensive, but the steep costs and extensive privacy clauses that culminated his experiences guaranteed that his dalliances never reached the public eye.

Beginning a physical-or otherwise-relationship with his Commander was an entirely different story. He was fully cognizant of the risks, and had been during their spar and subsequent kiss in the VR room. Genesis could very well use their dalliances against him. And if he became emotionally invested, he could use that as well. Then again, the redhead seemed to be under the impression that getting Sephiroth into bed would somehow put them on even footing. He wasn't entirely sure if it was revenge, or if he wanted something more from him. Mostly because the man in question refused to give him a straight answer at every turn.

Angeal was-as expected-typically gracious about getting extra work. They spoke momentarily about the rumors concerning unrest to the South, but otherwise their conversation was pleasant. The dark-haired soldier's gaze occasionally flicked worriedly to the second folder Sephiroth had tucked under his arm, but he didn't say anything about it. When the silver-haired man left, it was with a considerable feeling of satisfaction.

Genesis’ office was three halls down; next to an exterior balcony with a rather magnificent view of the reactors. Ignoring this for the moment, the General paused in front of the red door marking the entrance to the Commander's domain; tilting his head slightly in acknowledgment of the silver plaque that read 'Rhapsodos’ in bold, capital lettering.

That was new.

Running a hand almost unconsciously through his hair, Sephiroth let it fall over one shoulder before shifting the folder from his right arm to his left. He then lifted his free hand and knocked.

It took a couple of moments before the wooden door slipped to the side, revealing the redheaded First standing there with the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips. A red mug was dangling from his fingers, while he held a couple of folders, not entirely dissimilar to the one he had been holding, under his opposite arm.

“Sephiroth, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Walking over the threshold and taking his key card out of his jacket pocket with his thumb and index finger, Genesis paused, still not swiping it in the lock as his azure eyes watched him as keenly as ever. “Walk with me?”

The General smirked.

“In a moment.” He said smoothly, procuring the folder from under his arm and watching as the redhead’s eyes widened in horror. “I'm afraid I'm rather inundated with paperwork. I've just given an equal part to Commander Hewley, and I figured I ought to do the same for you.” He tilted his head, his smile widening somewhat. “I’m sure you understand, it's only fair.”

The redhead was still watching the folder with the same aghast expression as he swiped the key card automatically, reaching out with his other hand to take the folder from his hand. It seemed that he was about to say something, probably complain, but thought better of it.

Genesis’ hatred for paperwork was something everyone on their floor knew about. Administration had assigned a Materia training program for him to teach, due to his prowess in mastering magic. And while the redhead had been rather enthusiastic at the beginning, by the end of the course, he’d had enough of dealing with a platoon of cadets and nearly getting reduced to ashes by a rogue spell. When he had received the evaluation papers, he had nearly levelled the entire floor.

“Awfully pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” The Commander was pouting. His expression, however, was fraying at the seams; a smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you're talking about.” Sephiroth replied, trying and failing to hide an answering smile. He relented. “At any rate, I haven't burst into flames. I'll take what I can get.” He watched idly as the redhead stopped in front of the staff section of Administration, sailing through wide glass doors to lean over the desk of some hapless employee. The individual in question jumped and flushed, stammering something indulgent as he passed a few of the folders over to her with a sultry wink. Raising a silver brow, the General tried to ignore the squirming sensation of... _envy??_ that writhed in his chest as the blue-eyed soldier traipsed back into the hall and threw him a wholly transparent expression of innocence. “You should go easy on her.” He commented, returning his gaze to the employee, who was fanning herself frantically with one of the folders. “I think she might be tachycardic.”

“I can’t avoid it, being as charming as I am.” Genesis flashed him a bright smile, switching the mug to his other hand so he could card his fingers through auburn tresses.

They strode to the tiny coffee stand in silence, and the redhead handed over his gil. The barista was about to open his mouth, probably to start a conversation while he filled Genesis’ mug, but the Commander cut him off, asking for another cup to take away.

“I don’t think we’ve had time to actually sit down and chat.” Genesis spoke after taking his order from the counter and offering the paper cup to him. Nodding toward the direction of the balcony he had seen earlier on his way to the Commander’s office, the redhead quirked an auburn eyebrow. Sephiroth returned the gesture in kind but accepted the offering nevertheless and indicated for his fellow First to lead the way.

“I don't believe we have.” He said dryly. “To be frank, I was beginning to get the impression you were entirely adverse to it.”

The air outside would have been just on the wrong side of cold for anyone without mako enhancements.  Administration wasn't exactly low in terms of altitude; with the exterior temperatures hovering somewhere between 1.6 and 10 degrees Celsius. Today, with the sun blazing down on the shining metal plating of HQ, Sephiroth estimated it to be rather near a comfortable 15. The reactor shields prevented any excess heat from spilling onto the upper plate, and massive sound barriers reduced the din of continuously processed mako from a roar to a rather pleasant hum. There was a light breeze, but it wasn't strong enough to knock his cup over, consequently robbing him of his coffee, and that was all he really cared about.

Genesis slid into one of the two low-hanging chairs that sandwiched a rather rickety looking table and kicked his legs out in front of him. As he did the same, Sephiroth tried not to linger too long over the way the sun caught the Commander's hair; how it slid through fiery locks like liquid gold to halo each strand with a kind of scarlet-yellow effervescence. Likewise, beams of solar light splashed across alabaster cheeks; highlighting the contour of a proud jaw before bursting across sapphire irises until each sliver of color was an individual spoke of varying blues.

Catching himself, the General attempted to drown his thoughts in a particularly long sip of coffee as his second-in-command gazed out over the cityscape before them...somehow blissfully unaware. Anyone with eyes attached to their skull could tell that Genesis was attractive, he reasoned. He just hadn't particularly thought about it before...not until recently in any case. Clearing his throat, he spoke.

“I'm fairly certain there's something in the Handbook about fraternizing with your fellow soldiers.” When Genesis immediately looked thunderous, he raised his hands in a gesture of apology. “I'm sure you're aware of it, I just thought I'd reiterate…for posterity's sake.”

He nodded at his coffee. “And thank you, by the way.”

The lingering lines of anger faded away from Genesis’ face, and he placed the mug he had been holding on the table between them. “I’m fairly certain Hojo must have forbidden you to accept our friendship all those years ago, too.” He paused for a moment, his gaze returning to the scene expanding below them as he leaned back in his chair, tension lingering in his posture. “And don’t try to deny it. I’ve seen how he looks at me when I go to the science department. I have to say, though, the abhorrence is mutual.”

For a second, he appeared thoughtful, his lips down-turned slightly before he raised his head, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes curling his lips. To any outsider it must have seemed like the Commander was suffering from mood swings, but Sephiroth could almost see now as the mask slipped onto the pale face, obscuring the real Genesis. The smile was forced, that was for sure, but it made him wonder how much he actually knew about the man behind the mask?

“But I digress.” The redhead continued. “You know what I say about the rules. That they’re meant to be…”

“Broken.” The silver-haired man finished blithely. “Or, perhaps in your case, detonated.” He told himself the inward shudder he felt at Genesis’ answering grin was due to the cold. It didn't work. “In the case of Hojo…” He paused and looked away, fighting the habitual panic that fought its way into his throat at the mention of the aforementioned scientist. “...Hojo has never encouraged me to pursue friendships in their entirety, attachments bereave focus.” He worried his cup between his fingers before pushing it away. “Nevertheless, I'm here, so are you.” He levelled a serious expression at the redhead across from him. “So, at the risk of repeating myself, I will ask you again...what is it you want from this, from me?”

“Why does it matter?” Genesis asked abruptly, his eyes hardening into icy lakes. Leather-clad fingers were playing with the sheets inside the thick folder absentmindedly when the redhead looked down, as though catching himself in the act, before flicking through it.

Sephiroth barely managed to suppress an exasperated sigh.

“You've known me how long…?” he mused. “Eight, nine years?” When no reply was forthcoming, he narrowed his eyes. “In all the time we've been acquainted, have you ever known me to jump into something without deducting some sort of reasoning behind it first?” He watched with mounting frustration as the redhead licked his thumb and forefinger before continuing his perusal in a bored sort of manner. “Fine.” He snapped, the last vestiges of his patience blowing away with the wind. “Is there any particular reason you invited me to sit out here? Because I am obviously failing to see it.”

Leather creaked as Genesis’ grip on the folder tightened. “I don’t know.” He whispered, almost too low to be heard by a normal human hearing. Letting the cover flop on the rest of the documents in the folder, the redhead looked away, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Silence settled between them, heavy and tangible. And, right when he thought Genesis wasn’t going to speak up, the redhead’s voice broke it. “Look, I don’t know why I want this, how we’re going to deal with this, or where this is going to go. But can’t you, for once, put aside your reasoning and deduction and _trust_ me?” Cerulean eyes were watching him, and there was something, some unknown emotion -or was it question?- swirling inside them. The Commander was worrying his lower lip with his teeth, now sitting at the edge of his chair, as he laced his fingers together.

Sephiroth allowed himself a moment to consider the request. Despite his overall irascibility, Genesis was not untrustworthy. It felt somehow lackluster to admit it, but he couldn't deny it either. Time and time again, his second-in-command had proven himself in the field; he was capable, intelligent, and determined...if temperamental.

Genesis was emotionally sensitive where he was not. If someone had a problem that required extensive social investment, they were far more likely to turn to the redhead than to Sephiroth. There was also the singular truth that Genesis had never tried to kill him, use him for publicity, or experiment on him. As far as the General was concerned, that was more than he could say for a good many people in his life. Personal opinions aside, there were a great number of people who, by all intents and purposes, adored Genesis; sometimes passionately and-really-irrationally.

If he were being entirely honest with himself, he would have to say that the troops seemed to prefer his fellow First over him when it came to drills. When he'd cautiously questioned Angeal about it, the dark-haired soldier had cheerfully explained that Genesis kept things 'educational but fun.’ This baffled him, because-as far as he was concerned-combat training was not supposed to be _fun._ This opinion contrasted disagreeably with the fact that the Commander's men were generally more capable and more alert. Especially on long missions. 

So, yes. Genesis was certainly trustworthy, just as he was a great many other things. Sephiroth had never truly disliked him, despite the fact that the redhead often seemed to be trying very hard to get him to. He was not a trusting individual, but saying that he couldn't put his faith in someone who had continually proven himself to be honorable was unacceptable. And, really...he wanted this. That much was obvious, but he was spending a ridiculous amount of time trying to find a reason behind it. Taking a deep breath, Sephiroth opened his mouth to speak.

“Alright.” He pretended to be distracted when Genesis stiffened and stared at him like he'd lost his mind. “I have conditions.” He continued quietly.

It took a moment for Genesis to find his voice, relaxing, but only a little, as he nodded. “That’s completely understandable.” Despite this, the redhead was still staring at him as he continued, his voice a little more confident. “Name them.”

“Really, just one condition...” the green-eyed soldier amended, reaching for his coffee before realizing the cup was empty. Sitting back, he took a deep breath. “...Don't ask anything of me that you can't give in return.” His lips thinned. “And understand that what you see is what you get.” When Genesis’ lips quirked upwards somewhat, he shook his head. “I'm not talking about physicality.” Sephiroth paused and struggled with himself somewhat. “This is...who I am.” He said flatly. “I'm not hiding a deep well of emotional creativity and romantic finesse every time I step out of my apartment. I'm not like you.” He ignored the redhead's sharp intake of breath at the partial compliment. “I’m...shallow really” he laughed somewhat bitterly. “I’m good at what I do, yes. When it comes to affection, not so much.” He exhaled in a rush. “You need to understand that I may not be able to give you what you want.”

There was a strange expression on Genesis’ face by the time he was finished. He was smiling softly, miniscule wrinkles forming around the corners of his usually sharp eyes, which were somehow sad. Shaking his head, auburn tresses hid his visage before he stood up. “Alright.” There was an infinitesimal pause. “Done.” He reached out to take his mug from the table, smirking at the cold leftover coffee. “Is there anything else?” There was no urgency in his voice, just equanimous understanding.

Slowly, Sephiroth stood as well, tossing his cup in the bin next to the door. It was well past midday, and he still had the remaining paperwork on his desk to get through before evening.

“No.” He said calmly. Following the redhead back into HQ, he hesitated. “I'll...talk to you soon.” He continued, though it felt more like a question than anything.

Genesis unlocked the door to his office, lingering on the threshold for a couple of moments before nodding. “Have a nice day, General sir.” Coming from anyone else, the title would convey its intended meaning of respect, but from Genesis, it meant anything but. There was a playful smirk playing on his lips before he moved the hefty folder to his other hand, groaning rather dramatically before vanishing inside his office.

Staring at the scarlet door firmly closed in front of him, Sephiroth wondered if he had just agreed to something that was almost guaranteed to drive him completely, utterly... _absolutely_ insane.


	5. Chapter Five

Long fingers carded through auburn tresses as Genesis fixed his hair in the full-length mirror next to the bathroom door. He could have probably done it inside his walk-in closet, but he simply didn’t like the lighting there.

His bedroom behind him was a mess. The mess being the sheets that were now bunched up on his bed, because he had accidentally left his wet towel on them while he’d gone to the closet to get dressed. The shutters on the wall behind him were fully open, except for the one on the balcony door, the eerie green light of the mako reactors seeping between them only to fade away a few feet inwards.

Unlike Angeal who had cluttered his balcony with plants, his was rather empty; except for a creamy wicker lounge chair and a circular table. His childhood friend had tried giving him one of his numerous green friends, but after keeping it for a week, he was freaking out over pest control so he had kindly given it back to him. Now, he mostly used it for the few times he smoked, and for reading. He had fallen asleep there on numerous occasions only to wake up from the freezing cold, rays of sun playing on his face or the pitter-patter of the sporadic acidic rain.

Finally satisfied with his appearance, he bundled up the sheets, smoothing out the wrinkles on his bed with his other hand before dropping the crimson satin fabric in the laundry basket.

Putting his palm on the wall behind his bedroom door, the lights turned off inside his closet, but he didn’t wait to see as the wall slid back to its place, hiding his racks of clothes behind it. Exiting the bedroom, he looked around. The books were stacked in the massive bookcase embedded in the wall to his right. The wall to his left was empty. He had thought about hanging a few paintings here and there when he first got his floor, but he’d then decided against it.

He didn’t know why, but he had felt nervous. Sephiroth had come to his apartment before, sometimes alone, sometimes along with Angeal when they could actually manage to find time to get together. He had spent a good ten minutes typing the message on his phone, before finally pushing the send button to ask the silver-haired man if they could meet tonight.

At first, he was going to suggest the General’s apartment for the location of their rendezvous. While the man scarcely lived there, most of his time being on missions or at his office, it was still Sephiroth’s house. But then again, he preferred his own apartment better. It had this lived-in quality about it that made him feel at ease. He decided to leave the choice up to his commanding officer to pick where he wanted them to meet.

He took a deep breath as his strides carried him toward the open kitchen, trailing his fingertips on the smooth surface of his black grand piano. Outside his floor-to-ceiling windows, the city lights were twinkling gently, failing rather miserably to substitute the stars that were hidden by the smoke and smog.

Disregarding his phone on the white granite countertop, he took two snifters from the dishwasher. It was getting late for dinner. Genesis hadn’t eaten anything besides lunch, busy doing the paperwork Sephiroth had handed him earlier. He didn’t have an appetite to order takeout, but they probably could if the silver-haired man felt the need.

With a bottle of dumbapple brandy in his other hand, he sauntered back into the living room, sitting down on the white faux leather sofa, he poured himself a glass.

Genesis didn’t want to think about whatever was going to happen between them tonight. If everything took a turn for the worst, he wanted to be able to close his eyes, and by the time the sun was up and shining, for everything to be back to the way things were before. He didn’t want to think that they were taking their friendship to the next level. And most certainly, he didn’t want to think how messed up his emotions were going to be -and probably were, already- after this night.

Playing with his earring absentmindedly, a smile tugged on the corners of his lips as he suddenly thought about Angeal; about what he would have told them, told _him_ ; probably warning him not to ruin his friendship with Sephiroth. Especially after all the years they’d been together. After all the things they’d been through.

He shook his head, tempted to turn on the TV just to keep his thoughts at bay.

Just as his fingers were inching towards the remote, there was a sharp, distinctly professional rap on his apartment door. Rising, Genesis set his glass down and sauntered over to open it; taking care to not appear overeager. Sephiroth was standing in the hallway, looking typically impassive. The Commander thought he’d caught an expression of nervousness on the silver-haired soldier’s face when he first caught sight of him; but there was no sign of unease now.

“Evening.” The General said flatly, gliding past him into what Genesis assumed would count as the 'foyer’ of his apartment. Closing the door and folding his arms, the redhead watched with mild amusement as the green-eyed First glanced hopefully at the kitchen. “Did you finish the reports?”

The urge to roll his eyes was strong; instead, he let his hands drop limply by his sides as he walked past Sephiroth to pour him a glass. “Yeah, something like that.” Offering the snifter to the General, and cradling his own in his hand, he changed the subject. “Had anything to eat?” He watched the silver-haired man over the rim of his glass as he took a sip.

He was suddenly struck by the desire to run his hands through the waterfall of silver tresses. He had wanted to take Sephiroth by the collar when they had stood there at the door of his office; to bring their lips together and kiss him in real life, to see how that’d feel. Whatever happened in the VR room didn’t count. Oblivious to the heated nature of Genesis’ thoughts, Sephiroth accepted the brandy with a murmured word of thanks; taking a sip and closing his eyes...nodding as he did so.

“This is good.” He said quietly, a thin vein of surprise coloring his tone. “And I haven't, but I didn't agree to come here to inconvenience you, I can wait.” The General returned his gaze to the snifter. “This can't be local.” He muttered. Apparently recovering himself, he focused on Genesis. “... How are you?”

Genesis smiled, a tiny quirk of his lips. “I’m glad you like it, it’s from Banora.” He decided not to mention anything about his part in making the dumbapple juice and turning it into a variety of other drinks. It wasn’t because of modesty. But because he didn’t think it was much of an accomplishment now. And to think he had said those words all those years ago to that interviewer was enough for him to want to jump off the roof of the headquarters.

“It’d be no inconvenience at all, and it’s already late for dinner.” His smile had vanished as Genesis turned halfway toward the kitchen, gesturing toward his phone as he continued. “I could order something for you, if you want.”

“I'll manage.” was the firm response. Opening his mouth to argue, the redhead whirled back around only to notice the slightest downward turn to the left side of the silver-haired soldier's lip...the way he was worrying the neckline of his sweater with his free hand and furrowing his brow. He barely repressed an indulgent grin. The Great General Sephiroth was too _nervous_ to eat anything...oh, the irony. “In any case, I ate a late lunch.”

“Suit yourself.” Genesis shrugged, trying to keep his expression neutral as best as he could. Taking a short sip of his drink, he started walking toward his bedroom, grabbing the bottle on his way. “I think you already know my favorite place in the apartment.” He looked over his shoulder, seeing the silver-haired man raise an elegant eyebrow, but starting to follow him nonetheless.

Passing through the bedroom, he was thinking about the couple of times the three of them had stood there on the balcony, discussing a variety of things; from politics, battle strategies and missions, to the things that had happened on their day, almost mundane things.

Genesis opened the door and walked over to the glass railing, turning to face Sephiroth as he leaned to it. “Have a seat.” He nodded toward the chair, suddenly noticing the ashtray on his table, but paid it no heed; offering the bottle to the silver-haired man as he was settling down.

The silence that settled around them was tangible, unwanted. The scarlet-haired man wasn’t looking at the General, opting to look down at the bottom of his glass as he hid his lips behind it, which he had started worrying with his teeth. “I wanted to kiss you in that corridor.” He confessed in a low voice, still avoiding those emerald eyes.

He felt-rather than saw-his fellow First relax somewhat. Reaching for the brandy, the green-eyed man poured himself another glass, settling back in his seat and allowing his gaze to wander across the view before them. The light from the reactors threw a ghostly, greenish glow across strands of silver hair as it spilled over one shoulder; falling in long, shimmering threads to coalesce at the small of Sephiroth's back.

Genesis acknowledged-briefly and grudgingly-that there were few people privy to such time with the General. It was no secret that Sephiroth was a private man, and that he preferred it that way. He preferred isolation over intimacy, and while the redhead could never pretend to understand it, he could see why his fellow soldier felt like he needed it. Celebrity did-after all-have its downsides.

When they hung out with Angeal, it was different. Genesis’ childhood friend was pleasant, if a little bit stuck to the rulebook. The dark-haired First was an easy medium for them because every facet of his personality was bogged down with habitual neutrality. They got along because they all were, in a weird way, so very different from their peers.

“If you'll indulge me,” Sephiroth murmured, pinning him with those blazing, unfairly beautiful green eyes. “I should very much like to know why you didn't.”

The question caught him off guard, but he masked his surprise with a smirk. Slowly, he closed the distance between them, leaving his empty glass on the table. His eyes were never leaving Sephiroth’s as Genesis straddled his thighs, the wicker pattern of the seat digging into his knees through the thin fabric of his grey slacks.

He couldn’t help but think about how otherworldly the silver-haired looked in the greenish light; in fact, he had noticed it the couple of times before, when they had to check out reactors. But otherworldly or not, no one could deny that Sephiroth was gorgeous.

Gently, he touched the silver strands trailing the side of Sephiroth’s face, his eyes following the path his fingers had taken before returning to his green catlike eyes.

Why hadn’t he kissed him in the corridor? Maybe, because he had thought the man would push him away. That somehow, whatever had happened between them was the effect of running high on adrenaline after their spar.

“Is it too late now?” Genesis whispered, his eyes fluttering closed for a miniscule moment.

The grin that he was favored with couldn't be called anything but wicked. Long, strong fingers cupped the Commander’s elbows in a gesture that was surprisingly gentle considering the strength he knew was behind them. One palm dropped to rest on his thigh, just above the knee, as the other crept up his arm; sliding over the underside of his wrist until it found his pulse-point. Sephiroth tilted his head slightly, as if listening, silver lashes dusting alabaster cheeks before moving on; threading their fingers together and craning his neck somewhat...until their lips just-barely brushed. The hand gripping his thigh tightened almost imperceptibly, and the shiver that ran down Genesis’ spine was completely involuntary.

He could _feel_ Sephiroth's smirk against him; a soft, plush curve of those often too-subtle lips. Wryly-somewhat irritability-he supposed he really should have done something violent by now, because the General was definitely teasing him. And where was all of this confidence earlier, when the silver-haired soldier was quite clearly searching for food?

“There's a saying.” Sephiroth said mildly, and Genesis glared at him as best he could when the man was still hovering in front of his mouth. _“Abundans cautela non nocet.”_ The hand capturing his fingers relinquished it to thumb the curve of the redhead's cheek. “‘Abundant caution does no harm.’” Fingers paused, grasped his chin in a gentle yet firm grip; green eyes darkened with an emotion the Commander couldn't name. “Amusing.” He murmured, and this time there was an edge of roughness to his voice. “But it doesn't do anything else either.”

And then, Sephiroth dragged Genesis forward and kissed him.

He briefly pondered the meaning of those words before the thought was pushed to the back of his mind. His eyes fluttered shut involuntarily, and he cradled the nape of Sephiroth’s neck with one hand, gently carding the fingers of his other through the silver locks. The only thing he could think about was the feel, the warmth of those lips against his. The images of their brief encounter flashed in front of his closed eyelids, making him shiver again.

Genesis drew back; only slightly, mirroring what Sephiroth had been doing only moments ago. His eyes were glinting mischievously, a smirk curling his lips. “Be careful with what you wish for.” He didn’t wait for Sephiroth to answer, twisting his hand in the man’s hair and tugging on the strands before he brought their lips together again, more forcefully this time.

The General was-of course-just as good at kissing as he was with almost everything else. Which, really, was a little bit ridiculous considering how terribly bad he was at communicating. Every desirous press of his mouth, the flick of a tongue, the nibbling on a lower lip was skillfully, passionately placed. The leather-clad hand spread over his knee abandoned its post to travel upwards; tugging lightly-almost teasingly-at his shirt before tangling in Genesis’ hair. Likewise, the fingers under his chin rose to cup his cheek; thumb stroking across his jawline in a steady, rhythmic pattern. The redhead observed distantly as his companion’s breathing accelerated just-slightly, the staccato of pulse under his fingertips jumping somewhat before settling. Sephiroth’s body rose subtly with the next kiss; his grip on the Genesis’ locks becoming less exploratory and more clinging.

A ragged exhalation bloomed betwixt covetous lips, though he couldn’t be positive whose it was. Mutually, they pulled away and the light flush dusting the General’s cheeks only served to charge the electric sense of connection vibrating between them. Genesis shivered as a hot mouth buried itself between the apex of neck and jaw, sucking lightly before laving the spot with a dexterous tongue. Sephiroth was doing wonderful, _terrible_ things to his ear that you’d never know the man was capable of doing just by looking at him. And those large, clever fingers were falling from his cheek to press at the small of his back; closer, closer and down again before apparently thinking better of it. A sharp nip on his earlobe brought him back to the present and the blue-eyed soldier barely repressed a shudder as the silver-haired man drew back to reveal half-lidded, burning emerald irises that might as well have been on fire.

“Maybe we should move this elsewhere.” Sephiroth commented, and this time there was no missing the ragged undertone in voice.

His hands were clutching the fabric of Sephiroth’s sweater over his broad shoulders as he pulled away. It was really hard to stand up and go back inside when they could just do everything here and now, especially with the way the younger man was looking at him. Genesis felt hot, and it was spreading everywhere in his body.

The scarlet-haired soldier forced himself to let go, a sigh passing through his lips as he stood up, just a little shaky before reaching out his hand for Sephiroth to take. Both of them knew that the man needed no one’s help doing anything. Slowly, a smirk edged its way on his lips as the silver-haired man accepted his offer and stood up, only to be pulled flush against him. Genesis couldn’t help but smile against the perfect bow of the man’s lips as he guided them backwards toward his room, already knowing the place like the back of his palm. The younger man’s palm was pressed against the small of his back, his other hand tangled in unruly auburn locks, tugging gently. The moan that passed his lips made the silver-haired man smile. Feeling the smooth moist texture of those lips stretching against his, the redhead hooked his fingers just inside the waistband of Sephiroth’s fatigues, slowly but surely moving toward where the button was.

They had to break their lip lock, as they both couldn’t stop smiling. Genesis tugged teasingly on Sephiroth’s waistband, before letting go. “Wait here.” He whispered, walking backwards slowly. The younger man was watching him with a slight frown, the trace of the smile still lingering on his lips as he watched him with that dark look in his eyes.

Genesis was holding his gaze, noticing how it slowly traveled downwards to where his hand was working with the buckles of his black belt, and probably lower to the tent in his pants as he opened the door to his closet. Reaching inside, the Commander fumbled for a moment, reluctant to tear his eyes from the individual before him. Sephiroth was-after all-quite a sight to behold in all his tousled glory. Finding what he was looking for, the redhead pulled out a long swatch of scarlet cloth. The material was similar to that of a scarf, but was-truthfully-much stronger. Placing it on the bed, the blue-eyed First turned to catch his companion eyeing him from behind. Raising an eyebrow, Genesis cocked his head in question. Caught off guard, Sephiroth flushed before opening his mouth to speak.

“I was thinking” He said slowly. “That you’re wearing far too many clothes.”

The Commander grinned and straightened, raising a hand to crook his index finger in a _‘come hither’_ gesture. He watched fascinatedly as the silver-haired man complied...almost as if compelled, not just by will alone. When he was close enough, the older man reached out to grasp the hem of his sweatshirt, letting his fingers luxuriate in the illusion of soft fabric sheathing muscle, before pulling it slowly upwards. As he did so, Genesis let himself feast on the sight of smooth, creamy skin. _Fit_ didn’t particularly describe the man in front of him, but his brain was too thrilled to come up with anything more creative so he left it at that. When the sweater was out of the way, thrown into some recessed and forgotten corner; he dove in to touch but his wrists were immediately encircled by long, strong fingers. Raising his head, the scarlet-haired First was met with a sardonic smirk and an expectant look. Leaning in, Sephiroth let his lips brush against the shell of his ear.

“My turn.” He breathed.

He went slow...and it was torture. The General was-evidently-a man of finesse when it came to disrobing his lovers. Pressing a smooth, heated cheek against Genesis’ own, the younger man leaned into him; letting his breath whisper across his neck as those articulate fingers reached downwards to pull his shirt out of his hemline. Sephiroth went clockwise; with soft tugs that let calloused fingertips brush against skin; pressing inwards until sparks burst across dermis only to retreat just as swiftly. By the time his fellow soldier had reached the bottommost button; Genesis was feeling half-frustrated and half-insane. A glance upwards gave evidence to the fact that the green-eyed man was watching him intently, mouth parted with the intensity of his focus. One button, two, three and soft lips were brushing against his as the General’s fingers fumbled distractedly. ...Six, seven and the slide of fabric; over his shoulders and downwards as the shirt fell from his torso like a crimson cloud. Green eyes slid over him appreciatively; from top to bottom before focusing once again on his mouth. And finally, _finally_ he could touch, could splay his hands across that expanse of alabaster skin as they kissed once more; bodies surging against each other like grains of sand coalescing...merging together as waves ground them into the shore.

Their breaths were mingling between them, hot puffs against his moist lips as Genesis broke the kiss. Leaning his forehead against Sephiroth’s, he let out a short laugh.

They were actually doing this.

It was Sephiroth who was standing before him now, in his embrace, holding him close and probably closer if they could. To feel those calloused hands against his back caressing him gently, the same hands that expertly raised Masamune in the battlefield drawing blood; to think that despite all the taunts they traded back and forth in spars like blows, they were here standing in front of each other, defenseless, meant something to him that couldn’t be put into words.

He didn’t know if it had been seconds, minutes or hours that they had stood there, holding each other like entwined trees. There were words on the tip of his tongue that he wanted to say, but chose against it. His fingers trailed down that chiseled chest to the belly button, and lower still as they settled on the button of Sephiroth’s pants. He could hear the younger man breathe in a little deeper than usual as Genesis undid it, finally opening his eyes.

He raised his head, the soft silver of Sephiroth’s hair tickling his exposed clavicle as he placed an open-mouthed kiss to where that angular jaw met the man’s neck; sucking, licking the sensitive skin teasingly before pulling back a little, enough for his breath to ghost over the moist skin. His lips trailed lower, feeling the smooth skin, observing the tiny little movements as the silver-haired man breathed, swallowed, and lower still he went, leaving a wet hot trail of kisses until he reached the vein.

A fire had started inside him that given free reign, could consume them both. It was like his thought processes were all short-circuited in his brain. All he could rely on was his senses, and they made him want more, feel more, taste more. He couldn’t have enough of Sephiroth. The breaths ghosting over his heated skin were quicker now as the silver-haired man ducked his head slightly, sucking where his jaw joined his neck. Pulling him closer, his deft fingers made a quick work of drawing his belt out through the loops of his slacks.

Genesis smirked, closing his mouth against the sensitive skin covering the steady throb of the man’s ichor; he laved at it with his tongue, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise that’d probably be gone by dawn. The shiver that ran down the man’s spine was enough for him to know that he was doing it right. Sephiroth’s response was only intensified when the redhead reached down to unbutton his fatigues; and he acquiesced with uncharacteristic willingness when the Commander pulled him away to tug him to the side of the bed. Sinking down as one, they remained as they were for a moment...poised and facing one another, as if leaning over a yawning precipice to gaze at the swirling void beyond.

Then, abruptly, the green-eyed soldier surged forward; hands pressing Genesis down into the mattress as long fingers hooked over the hem of his pants and dragged them downwards with a precision and swiftness that was a little bit disorienting. The fingers that had previously touched with careful purpose swept down his sides as Sephiroth levered himself over him; long and lean and miles of hair that seemed to slither everywhere…across his hip bones, over his shoulders and onto his belly. Unthinkingly, he buried his fingers in it, twining silver strands between shivering digits until the younger man growled a soft warning deep in his throat; occupying his mouth with the planes of Genesis’ chest. With his hands, his companion was making quick work of his own remaining clothes, kicking the fabric away onto the floor.

It occurred to the redhead-dimly-that his fellow First seemed quite confident in his ability to commandeer their time together. Even as the warm and glorious weight of a fully naked Sephiroth settled over him, he couldn't help but feel a certain degree of smugness. Opening his mouth to receive the hot, wet reception of a seeking tongue, Genesis arched deliberately; letting the pads of his fingers drag suggestively down the broad expanse of the General's back. The man in question shivered, the wild, untamed nature of his advances becoming slow and languorous under his sure touch. He let it be, for the time being; reveling in the feeling of those large, slim-fingered hands clutching his waist, curling into his sides as he gave himself over to the sensation of being ministered to.

Suddenly, there was the sensation of silk slithering up the inside of this thigh; of fabric sliding over his abdominal muscles to be placed in his palm. Opening his eyes, Genesis was faced with an expression he had never seen on Sephiroth before. It was soft, playful yet appreciative, considering yet comfortable.

“...Did you have something planned with this?”

Genesis bit his lips, his hands clutching the sheets beneath him as he lifted his hips only minutely. And just as abruptly as Sephiroth had pushed him down, he switched their places, straddling the younger man.

For a moment, all he could do was stare. Silver surrounded Sephiroth’s head in an angry halo, contrasting beautifully, vividly, with the crimson sheets. And Goddess, he was gorgeous, with that strange look on his face that he had never seen before. His breath was caught in his throat, and all he wanted to do was to preserve that moment somewhere in his mind so he could revisit it whenever he desired.

He leaned down, his lips hovering only a breath above the General’s as he whispered. “I want you to touch me... Everywhere.”

Feeling those hands move across his skin made every single nerve light up in their path, and it seemed that somehow, despite everything, Sephiroth seemed to be waiting for his permission to wander further down from where he had been gripping his hips only moments ago. And right at that moment, he pulled away, swatting them away playfully. Dangling the cloth in front of them, he explained with a smirk. “Blindfolded.”

Those emerald eyes observed him for a moment, and it seemed as if they were gauging his intent. He waited patiently, letting the scarf dangle between his fingers. Then, to his surprise, the younger man relaxed...stretched the length of his body against his and lowered his head so it was just inches away from Genesis’ nose.

“Alright.” He murmured. “Have at it.”

He cradled Sephiroth’s face, gently, almost reverently, kissing the corner of those emerald eyes. Genesis nearly had to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying how much he loved them, but the action was probably enough to convey his feelings. He just wasn’t sure if the silver-haired man understood, or not.

Pulling the silk fabric over the man’s eyes, his fingers threaded through soft long locks as he guided the cloth before tying it into a knot that wasn’t too tight and not too loose either. Kissing Sephiroth’s forehead before pulling back, he observed his handiwork, covering the hands holding his hips with his own.

Despite it being Sephiroth who was the one being blindfolded, Genesis couldn’t help but feel incredibly aroused as those hands started rediscovering the planes and sharp corners of his physicality, having to bite his lips to suppress the moan that threatened to spill over. Azure eyes were watching that pale face for every miniscule reaction, from the way those silver eyebrows furrowed slightly in concentration, to that perfect tempting mouth. He threw his head back, arching in those powerful hands like a bow, his lips parting to let out a shaky breath.

“Goddess…”

He watched as those perfect lips curled upwards slightly; evidence of a smile blooming across that perfect visage before the green-eyed soldier seemed to realize what his face was doing. Genesis realized -in a moment of exhilarant clarity- that the blindfold gave the illusion of concealment; which ultimately meant that Sephiroth was less cognizant of his facial expressions. The grin that spread across his features was unseen, something for which he was sincerely grateful, but it didn't stop his breath from hitching as a warm, wet mouth found the soft crease of skin between his inguinal and coxal muscles; twitching as exhaled breath danced across his skin.

Sephiroth's hands and lips mapped his body like the most determined of cartographers; dancing across epidermis like desirous choreographers locked in a waltz that plucked at the strings of his psyche; 'till the unseen and unheard melody of it seemed to sing stanzas into his veins. Genesis hearkened to it, moved with it until he was unsure where the silver-haired man's touch began and his response ended. More powerful than that, however, was the General's response. Every time the redhead so much as shifted he would pause, mouth open and wanting against whatever expanse of skin he had chosen at the time; locked on the manner of the antiphon...as if Genesis had provided him with the most magnificent of canticles and he was but the recitation.

And with every action the fire between them seemed to burn hotter; like the wick of a candle held before the brightest of flames. Now, a hand shifting underneath him to squeeze the soft flesh of his flanks; now, the surge of that powerful body against his as his legs fell open and the cradle between them was filled with the lynx-like, incomprehensible form of shuddering, ravenous avidity; now, the clash of tongues and teeth as fingers snaked between them to wrap around and combine the aching, delirious apex of their needs. Grasping firmly before beginning a series of long, sure strokes that were sure to bring the culmination of their actions to an exhilarating...finite end.


	6. Chapter Six

The smell of coffee woke him.

Opening his eyes as little as he possibly could, Sephiroth registered the chime, and subsequent sound of the automatic machine percolating in the kitchen. Closing heavy lids, the General acknowledged that the sheets covering the lower half of his torso didn’t belong to him. He knew -from muscle memory- that he didn’t own bed covers half as soft. Vaguely, as he let his fingers flex across the silky fabric, he wondered if he should change that. He didn’t think he’d gotten such a good night's sleep in years. The mattress and pillows were more malleable as well...by all appearances they were comprised of some sort of memory foam. Stretching heavy limbs, Sephiroth slid forward against the silent, smooth warmth of the body lying against his side.

That wasn't right.

Frowning, the silver-haired soldier opened his eyes... blinked once, twice. Red hair was spread haphazardly across the pillows as his fellow First slept onward, oblivious to the younger man's disorientation. Because he did _not_ sleep over, but it appeared that against his better judgment, he had. Slowly, the events of the night before came back to him, and he swallowed against the temperate but persistent rush of arousal that automatically rose in his veins. Shifting backwards slightly, the green-eyed man observed his companion's sleeping form; the slope of a graceful neck, the just-barely visible glimmer of a pale cheekbone. All muscle and sinew and power; stubborn will, brash words and pride. Rolling onto his back, Sephiroth slung an arm over his eyes.

What was he _doing??_

He hadn't meant for things to go this far…or maybe he had, he just hadn't expected it to hurt so much. And that was bizarre, coming from someone who had just experienced the most pleasurable night in his life...but it was still there. He knew, automatically, that Genesis would be his usual aloof self; full of teasing words that hovered somewhere between flirtation and insubordination. When the redhead woke up it would be a rush-a race-to see who could get ready first, who could make it to the office first, who could put the night behind them first, or so he assumed. Exhaling, the General let his arm drop and stared mutinously at the ceiling, running his fingers through his hair as he tried to come to terms with what was bound to occur.

He didn't want this.

Not this- _them-_ he couldn't and wouldn't deny that anymore. There was no point pretending to act like he was invested in this out of mere curiosity. No...he didn't want the air of competitive progression between them anymore. If he was honest with himself, it was exhausting...draining. He wanted to be able to roll over and pull Genesis against him until he woke and arched into him, muttering something half-irritable and half-endearing. Wanted to wake up with him...slow and quiet until the sun was rising over the rails of the balcony to spill into the still-open doorway.

It was a foolish wish.

Really, it was a dangerous one. Because while Genesis was easy to smile...easy to show emotion, he was not so easily prone to affection. Playfulness was in the Commander's nature, practically ingrained in his psyche. At the same time, such cheerfulness banked on his ability to surpass, to waltz through life with the mentality of continuous frivolity. If Sephiroth acted like he was serious about this, the older man would walk away and never look back. He knew, from listening, from observance; from watching the women the redhead had romanced in the company come into work with red eyes and blank expressions. He was perfectly cognizant of how much damage his second-in-command could do. And yet…

He couldn't think about it.

Rolling back onto his side, Sephiroth reached forward...letting his fingertips nudge crimson locks before sweeping downwards...over the ridges of a languid back to the base of the spine. Carefully, gently, inexorably…but Genesis still stirred. For a moment, the younger man assumed he'd go back to sleep, but he didn't. Instead he shifted around for a bit before grumbling to himself and flipping over, pressing his cheek against the pillows and opening bleary, sapphire eyes to look at him. Sephiroth swallowed-tried to think of something clever to say-and opened his mouth to blurt out the first thing that came to mind.

“You snore.” He said flatly.

A short peal of sleepy laughter filled the room, followed by a softly spoken “Good morning to you, too.”

There was something serene about them, lying together in that bed, that was quite hard to believe. The soft look in Genesis’ azure eyes made it even harder to accept that as soon as they were out of the apartment, they’d probably be at each other’s throats again. The redhead was smiling, tiny lines forming around the corners of his eyes as he reached forward, gently brushing long silver locks behind his ear.

“Did you sleep well?” It was softly spoken before the older man rolled on his back, the mattress dipping slightly as he stretched, muscles flexing underneath the pale skin. The lashes fluttered against the redhead’s cheeks before moving, revealing those sapphire pools watching him with that soft curious expression.

Swallowing, Sephiroth looked away before he got too immersed in the moment.

“I did.” He said to the ceiling.

There was silence for a moment; broken only by the soft advance and retreat of breath. Then Genesis exhaled, somewhat exasperatedly; the sheets rustled and the younger man found his head inexorably pulled back into its original position. The Commander was still smiling, but there was a careful wariness behind it now... probably wrought by the cynicism of his own mood. Unthinkingly, the silver-haired soldier reached forward to trace the laugh lines around cerulean eyes, watching as red-wreathed lids descended somewhat at the touch. The sense of tension suffusing his veins abated somewhat, but not entirely.

“Will I see you again?” Sephiroth asked quietly, hating the blatant vulnerability behind the question. When Genesis looked irritated he relented somewhat. “Do you still want this?” he amended.

There was a slight frown creasing the redhead’s forehead as he looked at him, his expression not at all giving away what he was thinking about. A sigh passed those lips before Genesis rose to a sitting position, clutching the sheets in his fists. Auburn tresses were hiding his profile from Sephiroth as he hung his head. There was an urge to press his fingertips to the older man’s spine, to trail them down and count the vertebrae, one by one; to feel him writhe in his hands.

“Do you?” The question was almost inaudible if it weren’t for the quiet of the room, but it was enough to bring him out of his reverie.

“I do.” He said slowly. “But my conditions still stand.”

He watched as his companion nodded, lifting a hand to rub his eyes as he did so before yawning lazily. The sunlight coming in through the balcony doors was growing ever brighter, and Sephiroth knew it wouldn't be long before they were forced to get up and go their separate ways for the time being. He was strangely reluctant to do so; there was a tangibility to the current moment that couldn't really be put into words. He had reports to file and meetings to attend, but the necessity of duty paled in comparison to this. Sighing, the General sat up; watching as dusky fabric pooled at his waist with a kind of dazed fascination.

It was a surprise when Genesis pulled him back down; when long, pale fingers wrapped around his bicep to push him into the pillows once more. It was equally unexpected when the redhead leaned down to favor him with a deep, searching kiss that he felt from his head to the very tips of his extremities. Calloused thumbs stroked his cheek in a gesture that was almost on the too-close side of affection. He gave himself to it anyway...as if he had a choice. As if he'd ever had a choice when it came to the individual who seemed to be trying to suck all coherent thought out of his head through his tongue.

When Genesis drew away and sat up, he had to take a moment to gather himself; gazing blankly at the stitching on the comforter as waves of what seemed to be electricity ran through. Sephiroth cleared his throat.

“...Not exactly the cleanest player on the field, are you?”

Genesis grinned, a mysterious look fleeting across his features. “I think you should know that by now.”

The redhead started disentangling himself from the sheets. He seemed to be fully awake now, filled with the same wild vigor Genesis was known for. It seemed as if it was contagious, if Sephiroth didn’t know better, as he too sat up, pulling the sheets away as he swung his feet over the edge.

Pushing against the cold tiles, he stood up, remembering the scent that had woken him up. Only a couple of steps away from the door, strong hands curled around his torso, holding him in place. The warmth of Genesis’ body pressed against his was tempting him to walk them backwards to bed. The silver tresses falling over his shoulder were pulled aside before the older man pressed a hot open-mouthed kiss to his neck, trailing up to bite his earlobe with his teeth. “I want this.” The redhead’s breathing washed over his ear. “I want you.”

Sephiroth could almost feel Genesis’ heart beating faster before settling into a new rhythm. Those long fingers were splayed on his chest, pulling him back. Those soft lips brushed his skin as the redhead continued. “I want to lock you up, and keep you here all to myself.”

Against his will, the younger man felt his lips curve into a wry smile. He was sincerely glad his second-in-command couldn't see it. Exhaling softly, he tilted his head to further invite the questing ventures of the hot mouth currently wandering over the jut of his shoulder blade. Hearkening to the invitation, Genesis murmured something low and nonsensical into his ear before pressing closer; every line of solid musculature made apparent as he returned his attention to the green-eyed First’s neck. As he arched mindlessly back into the gesture, Sephiroth vaguely acknowledged that they were never going to make it into the office if they continued in this particular direction.

“Isn't-” he swallowed thickly, tried to think, couldn't. “Isn't that unlawful imprisonment?”

The swat on his backside was clearly meant in play, yet even as a soft chuckle cemented it as fact he thought he ought to do something about it...ought to pull away...ought to protest. But those hands were virile and _warm_... one descending from his chest to rest on his hip; pressing, rubbing, curling...over and back until he was flush against the hot, near-impermeable physicality of the man behind him. Genesis shuddered, swore, said something that would have gotten him written up for insubordination on any other day; his breath hot and ragged against the younger man's jugular. And beneath all that was Sephiroth's reticence against what he saw as a lesser position, of the fact that he was trying his hardest not to writhe backwards against his Commander like his instincts were telling him he should. Even as he was drawn in for another mind-shattering kiss, some small part of him resisted the idea of submission, even if it was the illusion of submission. Yet still, those fingers inched downwards, sliding over his flesh to trace the crease where groin met thigh and squeezed...caressed...and the small strangled noise that left his throat was entirely involuntary. Because yes, he wanted this too, wanted to be kept as much as he wanted to possess and-

-Someone’s phone was going off.

Genesis shuddered involuntarily, turning his head toward the direction of the noise as he muttered another swear under his breath. His hands, however, didn’t stop their ministrations, making the obnoxious sound fade in the background.

The ringing finally stopped and those lips found his again, a moan getting lost somewhere between their hot and heavy breathing. He had to try and focus, but it was getting harder and harder with each passing second, with each stroke and squeeze. A wet feeling was crawling down the small of his back, and Sephiroth didn’t know if the subsequent shudder was his or the redhead’s. Genesis moaned against his lips, his hand faltering for an infinitesimal moment before-

-The phone was going off again.

“Goddess dammit.” Genesis let go, almost leaping on the bed after his phone. Clearing his throat, he picked the nuisance up from the nightstand and flipped it open, bringing it to his ear. “Commander Rhapsodos speaking.”

It seemed like he couldn’t have enough of seeing his second-in-command like this; disheveled, flushed, fraying at the seams and about to unravel. His pale skin glistened faintly with the soft sunlight that reflected around the bedroom, those long fingers reaching toward the base of his erection before closing around it. Emerald eyes darted up to Genesis’ face, to watch his reaction, and found azure eyes gazing back. Something in the back of his head cautioned him that it was another one of the redhead’s games, that he was daring him, but it was pushed back as pearl white teeth bit a swollen lower lip. It seemed like his entire thought process was short-circuiting and shutting down as those eyes fluttered shut and the unruly halo of auburn tresses rolled back to expose a slender yet masculine neck.

...What was he going to lose by going along with it anyway?

His resolve solidified, Sephiroth threw his head back wantonly, thrusting his hips to encourage the somewhat slack fingers gripping his cock. Genesis faltered, surprise evident across his features, before acquiescing to the younger man's unspoken demand; tightening his hold and beginning a series of sure, steady strokes. And it was _good_ , but it wasn't the entirety of his means to an end. Sapphire eyes burned into his with an expression that was at once a question and a challenge and Sephiroth bared his teeth in a grin that was more predatory than anything else before undulating into the hard jut of the erection currently sliding between his ass cheeks. The hand stroking him quivered before redoubling its efforts; sliding from base to tip before thumbing over the head and driving back down in a series of sharp, staccato wrist flicks that were entirely too professional.

_“Rhapsodos, you missed the 0830 debriefing. I'm assuming you have a good reason.”_

Mako enhancements did have their perks occasionally. The silver-haired First bit his lip to suppress the groan that was wanting to escape, his head drooping as a tell-tale warmth bloomed at the base of his spine. Smirking, he craned his head backwards to lick teasingly at Genesis’ jaw, triumph blossoming in his chest as the Commander's gaze went distracted and slack, and he mumbled something that even the most skilled of translators wouldn't have been able to decipher. It was Lazard, that much was clear. Rolling his hips, Sephiroth watched with a bleary, euphoric kind of anticipation as precum beaded between long digits only to be swiped away. The man behind him made a noise that might have been somewhere between a moan and a whimper and he grinned, his breath coming short through his nose as he initiated the second half of his plan.

It was now or never.

Detangling the hand that had been ensnared in scarlet hair, the General swiftly brought it downwards, batting Genesis’ hand away only to take it up with the other; turning abruptly and bringing the redhead's palm to his lips as he grasped himself with his free hand and clamped down tightly at the base before he could embarrass himself. Blue eyes widened as he ran his tongue between slender fingers and then relinquished them, dropping to his knees; taking in the sight of his companion in all of his aroused glory before grasping a pale, powerful hip with the hand currently not stroking his own erection. His second-in-command said something breathless, something disbelieving. He ignored it. Instead, Sephiroth locked emerald irises with incredulous blue before he leaned in and swallowed Genesis’ cock.

It was -in retrospect- what the man currently trying to stay upright would call _‘a ballsy move.’_

_“Commander! I asked you a question. It's been five minutes, I think it's about time you answered it.”_

If he hadn't had his lips wrapped around ‘the Commander's’ dick, Sephiroth would have smiled. Because Genesis didn't seem like he'd be answering anything any time soon. Indeed, his cellphone nearly fell out of his hand as he attempted to steady himself on something-anything. The redhead's free hand was already anchored in the younger man's hair, yanking in a way that was not a little bit exciting. His lips formed something that sounded a lot like _‘fuck’,_ having evidently found his voice.

_“Did you just **swear** at me, soldier??!”_

The hold in his hair twisted a little harder, and the next moment Genesis dropped the phone, clasping the hand that had been holding the device over his mouth, muffling his groan as he came. His heavy breaths were the only sound that filled the room now, whatever that had befallen the phone completely forgotten.

Sephiroth swallowed, letting go of Genesis’ softening cock with a rather pleased grin. The redhead had his eyes pressed shut, the corners of his lips quirking upwards as he came down from the heights of his euphoria. His tense muscles were slowly relaxing as a hand caressed his cheek before trailing down toward his jaw and under his chin.

“You’re determined to ruin my career, aren’t you?”

Sephiroth hadn’t noticed that he had stopped stroking himself, watching the emotions as they fleeted across the redhead’s face since he had come. Now Genesis was watching him with a devilish grin.

“Here or bed?” Raising an auburn eyebrow, Genesis swatted the hand that was holding his own cock away.

The silver-haired man mirrored the expression, his emerald eyes questioning the redhead’s before he stood up, and soon fingers were tangling themselves in his silver locks, Genesis’ slick lips finding his before the older man tasted himself on his tongue. His own hand twisted in unruly auburn tresses before the back of his calves hit the bed, bringing down both of them as one.

Freeing himself from the lip lock with a short playful laugh, Genesis crawled down, leaving a trail of burning kisses down his body. Sephiroth pushed his head into the mattress, clutching the sheets as a wet tongue darted between the redhead’s hot lips against his inner thigh, sucking, licking, kissing. Raising his head to watch the splash of red hair at his groin, he was met with mischievous azure eyes before that beautiful mouth covered his erection, bobbing up and down.

His fingers tangled in fiery locks of their own accord, pulling none too gently as pleasure kept pooling at the bottom of his stomach. The tide kept rising, and whenever Genesis’ name passed his lips, _...to warn him to stop?? …or plead for more??_ the firm hold the redhead had at the base of his cock tightened minutely. The older man would stop, chuckle and begin again; and by the time his torture ended, Sephiroth was feeling so light headed that he thought he was going insane. His body had gone taut, arching off the bed like a strung bow as pleasure crashed through his shore like a tsunami.

When his brain had finally settled back into its proper place in his head, Sephiroth found himself staring at the ceiling again thinking that somehow his plan had backfired. Glancing downwards, he was favored with the sight of a riotous smirk and blue eyes that seemed to know exactly what he was thinking.

“Not trying to ruin your career.” The younger man said flatly.

Having caught his attention, Genesis sat up and winked playfully. The General gave up and groaned, wondering -for what felt like the thousandth time- what he had gotten himself into. There was a shrill peal from the Commander's phone, still lying where it had been so flagrantly discarded, before it began to ring in quick succession. Sephiroth imagined that the Director was likely going into histrionics.

Both of them stared at it for a while, as if contemplating an art exhibit of particular absurdity. The silver-haired First attempted to get up for what felt like the millionth time; levering himself up onto his elbows before getting into a sitting position... promptly catching himself on several wayward lengths of hair and tipping forward to land just shy of Genesis’ lap. His second-in-command looked surprised for a moment-as if he'd never considered the fact that several feet of hair could be a hindrance-before his mouth twitched and he burst out laughing. When Sephiroth scowled he 'tsked’ and and bent down to pull him into a kiss whose effect was considerably ruined by the fact that the redhead was still chortling. When he'd had enough, the General batted him away and got to work detangling himself as the older man’s phone started to go off once more.

“If he sends you extra paperwork for ignoring him, don't look at me.” The green-eyed soldier deadpanned. “I've missed a meeting with the President and the same debriefing he's hounding you about.” Glancing over at his own cellular device, lying on the bedside table, Sephiroth wondered if putting it on silent hadn't been the smartest idea he'd ever had. “Do you think we have time for coffee?”

“A miss is as good as a mile.” Genesis said, his bare feet padding softly against the tiles before the ringing turned to soft vibration as the redhead probably put it on silent.

Gathering his clothes that lay haphazardly across the room, Sephiroth was trying to come up with a convincing reason for going to work at least two hours late, for the first time in his life.

“If Lazard banished me to Icicle Inn, I’m taking you with me.” Genesis’ voice called from the kitchen, making him smile despite his thoughts. The redhead hated the cold, isolated town on the northern continent. And while the silver-haired man imagined he would have a tough time explaining himself to the president, he didn’t know what colorful idea his second-in-command was going to come up with to convince Lazard that he wasn’t swearing at him. The multitude of the ways that scenario could play out made him smile even more.

“What’s so funny?” A mug was shoved in his hand before Genesis sauntered to his closet. The redhead’s phone had been vibrating in the background all along, and now someone was knocking at his door.

“I was thinking” the General murmured, taking the mug in one hand and pulling on his fatigues with the other. “Are you going to tell Lazard that you stubbed your toe or ran into a wall?” The knocking increased in urgency somewhat and he cocked his head. “You going to answer that?”

He watched as the redhead glared in the general direction of the entryway for a moment before pulling out a pair of nondescript pants, yanking them on and stalking out of the bedroom grumbling something along the lines of _‘I’m going to shower if it kills me.’_ Finagling his way into the rest of his clothes, Sephiroth tried to put the bed into some semblance of order-mostly out of habit-before following the redhead...making sure to remain in the kitchen, out of sight of the front door. There was a brief pause as the Commander disengaged the latch, and then the noise of the hinges swinging inward.

“Ange-...”

“Are you ever going to answer your phone?” The redhead’s surprised exclamation was interrupted by the steady if irritated baritone of Angeal Hewley.

“I didn’t know you were back.”

“Since when are you going to work at ten? Hurry up, I’ll wait outside.”

“But…”

The door closed quickly afterwards, and Genesis was muttering something about smelling like a rat at work. Sephiroth watched him running toward the bedroom, soon followed by the sound of items clattering and the redhead swearing, asking where he had put whatever it was he was looking for. Emerging from the room while pulling a matching sweater over his hair, the older man closed the distance between them before placing a wet kiss just below his ear. A card was placed in the palm of his hand, before his second-in-command whispered almost inaudibly. “I’ll see you soon, General _sir_.”

And just as quickly as he had come, the redhead vanished, dashing toward the door. If he concentrated, Sephiroth could almost hear their conversation as their footfalls drew further and further away from the house before everything was silent. The green-eyed First stood there for a moment more before sighing and finishing his coffee in a weary sort of way. Somehow, spending a morning with Genesis was more taxing than spending an entire day at the office. Then again...it was a _good_ kind of exhaustion. Smiling absentmindedly, Sephiroth thumbed the plastic edge of the key card as he placed his empty mug in the sink. Checking the bedroom to make sure he'd remembered all his belongings, the silver-haired soldier made his way to the front door. Upon opening it, he glanced back briefly; a chuckle escaping his lips as he did so.

Maybe...in the end...this wasn't such a terrible idea after all.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're going to try a different kind of POV this chapter, called the split POV! :) The line breaks signify a change from Genesis' side of the story to Sephiroth's. 
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy!

Administration was determined to kill him with paperwork; or actually Lazard was. Or maybe it was the President’s order.

Genesis sighed exasperatedly. His forehead was leaning against the palm of his hand, his fingers twisting in auburn strands as he tried writing faster, but to no avail. His scribble was almost unreadable now, too forced, too hurried.

He didn’t know how much time had passed until he finally put the folder he’d been working on aside, on the stack of ‘Done’ documents, only to take another one from the ‘To-do’s never-ending pile. Opening it to see yet another SOLDIER assessment, Genesis kicked his desk, hurling the pen at the wall in front of him.

Swiveling in his chair and turning away from everything inside his office, he held his head in his hands, his shoulders slumping forward.

They really hadn’t done anything. They had been careful with their public image. They hadn’t let their relationship affect their work; well, except that one time they’d been late for a few hours. But it hadn’t been anything important, now had it?

Maybe he had been a fool. He’d been a fool to believe that he could actually have a life alongside being a SOLDIER. He should have known that Turks were everywhere, eyes and ears of the company. And that they really couldn’t have hidden what was going on between them for too long.

It had started with that damned photo on the newspaper.

Thinking about it now, Genesis was sure that the company must have known about them, but had somehow decided to keep quiet; so as not to bother them. But when that photo had been published on the Midgar Daily, all hell had broken loose. They had been court-martialed, separately at first. It had been literal hell.

He could remember standing at attention in the center of the board room, while every-even unrelated-executive had sat in front of him; scrutinizing him, judging him. It had been a public humiliation. But Genesis hadn’t looked at any of them, staring at the nothingness above the President’s head, his chin held high as he’d answered their questions as calmly as he could. His hands had been trembling where he’d held them behind his back when their voices started rising, and instead of listening they’d kept accusing. Accusing. Accusing.

And Lazard had been silent the entire time.

A tremor ran down his whole frame, and he tried breathing deeply, evenly to calm himself. His fingers were digging in his palms as he pressed the balls of his hands to his eyes, so that it might chase the images away.

_‘You will stay away from him!’_

The president had ordered, and by Goddess, he’d wanted to stare at those eyes and disobey. He’d kept his mouth shut, his lips pressed into a thin line, even as the head of the Shinra company repeated those words. Genesis had turned his back on them, exiting the conference room without a word.

And then, they’d questioned both of them, together. He’d wanted, so much, to yank Sephiroth by the collar and kiss him right in front of their eyes, to hold his hand only to show them that they couldn’t break them apart… But he hadn’t.

Genesis hadn’t seen the silver-haired General since.

What was left of his pride hadn’t let him go to the door of Sephiroth’s apartment only for the man to possibly reject him. He hadn’t called him, hadn’t texted him.

Hell, Genesis hadn’t even gone to say goodbye to him as they’d sent Sephiroth to Wutai.

He wasn’t disingenuous enough to believe that it’d been due to the hectic schedule he’d been given; the back to back meetings, missions that were at least a good three hundred miles away from the silver-haired man’s location, they’d even given him classes! Not one, but two! But the redhead knew that despite everything, he could have at least tried; could’ve at least called, sent a message.

Nothing.

He had done nothing.

Genesis raised his head. He wasn’t getting any more paperwork done tonight; he simply couldn’t. A glance at the digital clock on his desk showed him that it was already ten. He was tempted to stay here, sleep, and start again tomorrow. But he couldn’t, not anymore. His muscles had started protesting against the mistreatment.

The hard part was dragging himself back to his apartment, which he did, after suppressing the urge to run back to Angeal’s for the umpteenth time.

Everything hurt, even the swiping of his key card.

Inside, shards were almost everywhere, on every single surface. His boots cleared a path around the sofa and the TV set through the glittering fragments, as he found himself drawn toward the piano.

He hated TV, abhorred watching it for the constant litany of lies it spewed. But he’d found himself following every facet of news about Wutai, if he could manage to stay awake long enough after he got back from work. He’d found himself having fallen asleep with the TV on all night long. His whole life had turned upside down.

Something was wrong with him. Genesis was sure of it.

He knew he had inflicted this upon himself. It had been his own choice to stay away. But understanding it didn’t really help. Sitting on the bench, azure eyes landed on the photo he’d clipped from the newspaper. His long fingers started playing the black and white keys of their own accord.

The picture didn’t show anything really. They had been walking side by side, maybe a little too close for being friends, if such a thing even existed. It was the one time Genesis had invited Sephiroth out to watch Loveless, right after the play. It had only been a moment of comfortable company. He’d been holding on to Sephiroth’s bent elbow, his fingers curling around the soft fabric of the man’s tuxedo that covered his forearm. In his opinion, that was still okay too. What was wrong, was the way he was looking at silver-haired soldier in that photo.

A corner of his lips was trembling, and he had to tear his eyes away, looking everywhere, _anywhere_ except that photograph.

Genesis hadn’t felt like this before. They had been separated for periods longer than this, and as much as he’d worried about the wellbeing of his friend with war and everything, as much as he’d missed him, it’d never been like this.

Sephiroth had warned him. Genesis knew about it; that law in the handbook. But that didn’t change anything. That didn’t make it less painful.

The music that filled the room came to an abrupt death as he clutched his shirt over his heart, as if trying to carve it out and throw it away. His body was folding in on itself as he tried to suppress the scream, the sob that threatened to break free.

A sharp inhale of breath, too loud for his liking, made his shoulders shake even harder with the strain.

He had failed. Utterly. Miserably.

He had failed to keep the one thing that he had wanted. He’d failed to fight for it. And now, he was not only going to lose Sephiroth and their relationship, but their friendship as well. The silver-haired man was never going to forgive him.

Genesis missed him.

Badly.

* * *

The sunset was permeating the treeline; tingeing leafy fronds and tangled vines a virulent scarlet. 

The death of the day spilt blood-red and uncomfortably warm rays across the rainforest. It wrapped tendrils of receding solarity around trunk and bow; like split and aching wounds rent across dark shadows. Unseen creatures skittered to and fro beneath heavy lichen and low-growing palm trees...some turning in with the fast-approaching twilight…others only just rising to begin their nightly hunt. Ignoring the sounds of the camp behind him for the moment, Sephiroth let his gaze sweep the dense undergrowth before him. Standing just outside the perimeter, he was far enough away that no one could see him, yet close enough to return at once should something be amiss.

So far, they'd met little resistance.

He supposed that such a fact should encourage him, but it only made him more wary. He was loathe to believe that the only people who opposed Shinra were a few hapless groups of twenty or less farmers armed with pitchforks and overalls. Fighting them was pointless; he made a point of ordering them to be tied up with their own denim and left in the most public place possible. Because if Godo Kisaragi thought that Sephiroth was unintelligent, he was going to prove him otherwise.

Letting his hand drop from Masamune's hilt, the General slipped a hand into his pocket, letting it rest there for a moment before pulling it back out with something clasped between his fingers. It was a thrice-folded slip of paper; laminated and given the illusion of agedness to increase its novelty. A programme-to be precise-for the play he and Genesis had gone to see not so long before. Just-barely, Sephiroth could make out the curling, cursive loop that signified the upper-part of the calligraphic spelling of _'Loveless.’_

A wistful, contemplative ache momentarily soothed the steely, stiffly-focused emotion that seemed to permeate his bones every single day. It was a stubborn feeling, caught between rage, forced indifference, and confusion. He was caught-for a mere moment-in the memory of a smile as bright as sunlight, of excited whispers in his ear as a red velvet-gloved hand pointed at the stage below them; fingers gesturing emphatically between curtain call, intermission, and finale. The way Genesis seemed about to fall out of the balcony onto the crowd below...the way he dissected each subtle element of the performance with a simple sentence...the way he looked...the way he looked at _him._

“Sir!”

Sephiroth whirled, ready to say something irritable, a snarl forming on his lips...before he found himself face-to-face with a cadet that looked like he was about to have a fit of the vapors. Acknowledging that berating this particular recruit might land him a write-up, the General relented.

“At ease, soldier.” He muttered. “Report?”

“Sir, there's a concern about a possible ambush.” The trainee continued after gathering himself. “Across camp. One of the Seconds sent me”

“Very well.” The silver-haired First replied. “I'll be over in a minute.”

He felt no small amount of relief as the cadet saluted again before jogging off. Taking a few more moments to himself, Sephiroth eventually turned to investigate whatever it was the squad was concerned with this time. It was easier to be alone, so he’d discovered. His time with Genesis had been swift and fleeting. It might have lasted longer, if Shinra hadn’t decided to step in. His memories of the meeting they'd been called to were unusually vague; he'd been more concerned about how obviously upset his second-in-command was...how he refused to look at him...how he'd left without a single glance in his direction. It was the first time he'd felt at odds with Administration, because while both he and Genesis had been active participants, they'd made sure that the redhead was berated to the point of debasement.

Sephiroth did not condone unjust humiliation.

Nodding to a group of Thirds huddled around a fire, he moved onwards...skirting the flame in favor of the shadows. At first, he'd entertained the idea of talking to Genesis, but the tasks they'd been set to, constricted their time to near-impossible parameters. If the Commander returned to HQ, he was boarding a chopper to ship out...if Genesis was fielding reports, he was stuck training a group of cadets fifteen floors below. They had scheduled VR sessions, placed hours-sometimes days-apart from each other and their training sessions were strictly monitored. Sephiroth was used to restriction... to regulations and rules that often seemed far-fetched.

He knew, however, that Genesis was not. He would see their limitations as an occupational setback, as punishment. In truth, it was more of an attempt to keep order, to prevent them from becoming enamored of each other to the point that they resigned in favor of domesticity. Snorting, the General side-stepped a muddy patrol vehicle and nodded at the group of soldiers waiting for him at the perimeter. It was absurd, really. Genesis wasn't the type to settle down, wasn't interested in anything serious. Sephiroth had tried to tell himself the same... shoving his more dangerous emotions to the side in favor of enjoying what he could get. Every kiss, every smile...every morning spent waking up to so much noise yet so much brilliance he'd categorized under personal indulgence.

He was lying to himself. 

“Sir.” A soldier he recognized from one of his assigned training sessions spoke up. “You might want to take a look at this.”

Accepting the pair of binoculars handed his way, the silver-haired First stepped up onto the sawed-off tree trunk before him without a word. Positioning himself to the North, he lifted them to his eyes...a smirk tugging at his lips as he took in the 'view.’ He wasn't partial to Shinra's regime, but he wasn't impartial to it either. Wutai was a pacifist country...but even the gentlest of nations could be stirred to action when the threat was great enough. Bloodshed was an integral part of his physical makeup...he lived and breathed slaughter because he didn't know anything else. Another image of Genesis slithered into his mind...this one less prominent than some, but no less valuable. Conjured from his synapses was the vision of the redhead standing in his apartment; leaning on the kitchen counter with a copy of Loveless and a soft smile. His hair was tousled with sleep, scarlet and riotous regardless as a pale...slender hand fingered the rim of his coffee cup distractedly…

_'My friend, do you fly away now? ...To a world that abhors you and I?’_

Clenching his jaw, Sephiroth yanked himself back to the present…a present where the waning sun was glinting off several hundred sets of Wutain armor. He was not there, he was here...now. Genesis hadn't contacted him... hadn't reached out to him to indicate their separation was anything other than what he wanted. He was not going to do the Commander the dishonor of crawling to him and begging for recompense at his feet. Handing the binoculars off to a cadet, he drew Masamune and gestured for his troops to make ready. Letting the slow, rolling tide of bloodlust rise into his veins, Sephiroth drained himself of any and all emotion...save for rage.

“You have your orders.” He said flatly.

“...Let them come.”

* * *

Lazard stopped the report Sephiroth had sent them, turning to face everyone in the conference. A hush fell over the room, which Genesis hadn’t quite expected. Maybe they were finally understanding the gravity of the situation after all.

There was a map of Sephiroth’s advances on the big screen now, and the positions of Wutain forces. Lord Godo had proven himself to be a very cunning and resilient man. If only his opponent hadn’t been the silver-haired General, the entirety of the Shinra army would have perished by now, and Shinra would have to look elsewhere for his visions of grandeur.

The emperor had yielded city after city, luring Sephiroth’s army well into his territory. Too bad for him, the General was neither rapacious nor a fool to fall for such schemes. But Genesis had to admit that by setting posts in every city he’d taken, the silver-haired man had been spreading his supply of manpower too thin. From what his friend had stated in his reports, they had been fighting on two fronts for days now, suffering heavy losses, because while his commanding officer was called the demon of Wutai, he was but a man; he couldn’t possibly be present in two places at the same time. What had first started as an easy win after win, had now turned into a massacre of both Wutain men and SOLDIER alike. Add forces of nature to it, and it might as well be a full-fledged hell, only drenched in downpour. Day after day, week after week of heavy rain; slowing down the men, making them weary in a terrain and climate that was foreign to navigate at best, impossible at worst.

In the background, he could vaguely hear as Lazard was saying something before being rudely  interrupted by Scarlet, probably about how she needed every gil they could spend for the new weapon program she was launching, soon followed by Heidegger about needing money and cadets to secure the city. But Genesis’ wasn’t paying attention to them. His brows were furrowed in concentration, his eyes never leaving the map as he was beginning to see something no one had noticed. Or maybe they had, but they weren’t saying anything about it, busy with their childish bickering while hundreds of lives were at stake.

Most importantly Sephiroth’s.

Lord Godo was keeping Sephiroth occupied. He was probably going to flank him from behind, cut him off from the posts he had kept behind before crushing him entirely. And regardless of how many men the silver-haired man had at his disposal, which probably weren’t many now, he was more likely to fall.

Surely Sephiroth must have seen this coming. Hadn’t he?

His voice was different in the report. Maybe it was weariness? Lack of sleep from pouring over maps and strategizing day and night? Or maybe it was from the rain? Recording noise? Genesis couldn’t pinpoint exactly what.

It didn’t matter now. He forced himself to push the thought away. Also the one about how his heart had almost missed a beat when he had heard that deep voice after so long. How he had missed it, missed him. Looking at his hand on the glass table in front of him, he remembered the weekend they had spent together, doing everything and nothing; from playing chess while talking about strategies and more lighter subjects, to watching horrible TV shows. Silver had fanned out beneath Sephiroth’s head on his lap, and Genesis simply hadn’t been able to keep his fingers away from touching them, carding through them; from trailing his fingertips along the smooth facets of that pale face before following them with his lips.

The leather of his glove creaked as he curled it into a fist, trying to focus at the pressing matter at hand. A glance to his right revealed his childhood friend following the ridiculous banter between the executives, backing up Lazard whenever the director needed it.

He needed Angeal’s help to explain everything in his absence. In terms of authority, he could do as he pleased with soldiers under his command, but to move them off base, and in the proportions he was thinking about, he had to go through regular procedure to get clearance; meaning days and days of paperwork. The Commander didn’t have time for that.

Protocol be damned. Genesis was going to do it.

As soon as the meeting was dismissed, Genesis had taken off, hastily replying a ‘Later’ as Angeal called after him, before locking himself up in his office. Printing out the map Sephiroth had sent them, the redhead began scribbling frantically, explaining what Lord Godo was about to do and his plans to counter it. After that, he typed the necessary legal documents based on protocol, attaching the map to them before scheduling them to be sent to Angeal and Lazard tomorrow.

Genesis could only hope that they wouldn’t shoot down two transport jets filled to the brim with soldiers, just to stop him.

The next hours passed in a flurry of movements, from boarding the airplanes to getting up in the air; of yelling over radio as Shinra tried escorting them back to headquarters before Genesis had to send them those emails, never changing their course before they had finally laid off, but not without hinting at the fact that if he failed, he would probably be executed for mutiny.

He didn’t care.

To him, it was worth it.

* * *

They were overrun.

Swinging Masamune upwards to block the downward swipe of a blade not unlike his own, Sephiroth dug his heels into the ground and disengaged with a hard forward thrust. His adversary went flying into the wall of bodies in front of him; temporarily parting the advance of the opposing force. Around him, his men battled fiercely, determinedly...tiredly. A cry to his left made him grit his teeth; he didn't have to look to know that his field sergeant was dead...the empty rush of air at his side and the sharp tang of mako-infused blood told him enough. Another soldier stepped in to take his place but he didn't pause to see who it was. Here...names and titles didn't matter...advance mattered, survival mattered.

He had miscalculated everything.

In retrospect, Sephiroth didn't know how or when he had made such a terrible error. Tactical configuration came naturally to him, he'd been doing it for years. His men _trusted_ him to make calculated and succinct decisions when it came to combat trajectory. They'd started in the South-as planned-worked their way upwards through the region with very little resistance. He'd been wary of it, probably should have been more wary of it. Their first encounter with any real resistance should have been a red flag; the opposition retreated early...folded easily...drew them inland and then disappeared. The troops had taken it as a good sign...and as desperate as he was to find some form of positivism...he'd gotten caught up in their optimism.

Really, he knew better.

They'd reached Peiho, one of the more populated towns outside of a major province. By all appearances, it was deserted; the inhabitants having fled after hearing the news of their advance. Carelessly, Sephiroth had split the column he was commandeering into two parts, ordering one to the next town over and keeping the rest with him. They'd then continued forward into the square...staring up at empty, yawning windows and creaking shop placards...dust and litter blown hither and thither across empty flagstones and bereft buildings. The men were loud, carelessly so. He'd allowed it, ignored it really, in favor of immersing himself in the memory of a particularly warm evening sitting on Genesis’ balcony. They'd finished up a card game... something simple... negligible... something easy on the mind after a long day of thumbing through countless reports and endless drills. The Commander was leaning over the railing...looking downwards over the endless spiral of metal and chrome.

_“Come here…”_

Soft, husky... affectionate; strung with that undertone of musicality that was signature to Genesis’ voice alone. The curve of those lips, just on the pale side of cerise...a red leather-clad hand beckoning in invitation until he rose inexorably, automatically. Eyes as blue as the sea, sunlight caught in sapphire irises as that smile extended to encompass them. The iron railing was cold under his fingertips...unyielding and firm as he leaned against it. The mouth that pressed against his was not; it was soft and hot and full of clever, teasing phrases...laughter and wit all rolled into one. Likewise, the hands that tangled in his hair were both giving and yielding, wrought in fire yet akin to that soft...shimmering smolder that heralded the egress of a flame ready to give way to ash.

Gunfire was his first indicator that anything was amiss.

They were fearless, the Wutains... he'd give them that. In under ten seconds flat they'd swarmed the streets that were previously empty... laying waste to those that stood in their path. Sephiroth lost four men that day. Good men, men he knew. Gutted, riddled with bullets, smashed into the flagstones and rent asunder. All because he wasn't _paying attention._ The subsequent battle was brutal, bloody…the days after that were considerably worse. He'd done exactly what Kisaragi had been waiting for him to do; separated his troops, thinned his numbers. From that point on, they were kept apart...hunted like the insurgents they were. For the first few weeks, it was easy going. Maybe one or two men died along the way...but that was to be expected. Or so he told himself. The amount of resistance they encountered grew steadily higher...the adversaries they met grew increasingly skilled.

Until now.

With a growl, Sephiroth plunged forward; swinging Masamune in a wide arc, heedless of the blood that splattered across his face. The men in his direct line of sight crumbled like dolls made of flesh and bone; their defiant cries were cut off...becoming wet, oleaginous gurgles as they met their deaths on the tepid earth. Pivoting, the General ducked to his left to avoid a hail of bullets that would have otherwise eviscerated him.

Rain poured from the heavens in a constant, eternal deluge. It turned the soil into a relentless, churning slurry and obscured vision almost to the point of nearsightedness. Even the toughest of leathers weren't immune and the green-eyed soldier’s hair was a massive, sodden curtain that seemed to want to drag him into the ground. The troops faltered, slowed by mud, refuse, and exhaustion. Even without combat, the weather made for delayed progress. Here it was insidious, brutal, and deadly.

Something moist, warm, and grey landed on his lower lip, inundated with a shard of whitish bone that had once made up something spherical. Spitting it to the side, the silver-haired First ducked before lunging to the left, plunging his blade through the belly of the man who had been trying to cut him off from his men. Nameless, he crumpled; scarlet spilling over his lips as the smell of iron permeated the air around him. A chorus of screams gave him pause, and he looked up in time to watch a squadron of Seconds disappear under a hail of earth that exploded upwards and towards the sky. A dull ringing sounded in his ears and he shook his head to dispel the shockwave the artillery had caused.

Almost simultaneously, a sharp, stinging sensation collided with his tensor fasciae latae; beginning as a dull ache that radiated outwards...like a pinwheel of fire that broke hot on the shores of his psyche and surged forwards as a red wave of pain. He ignored it in favor of rearing backwards to slam Masamune's hilt into the hulking figure trying to sneak up on him from behind. There was a sharp crack and he twisted to avoid the body that would have otherwise fallen onto his spine. Another, larger round of artillery momentarily obscured his vision; dust and grit forcing its way into his pores.

When the debris cleared he was distinctly cognizant of a sense of horror that seemed to permeate the entirety of the remainder of his troops. Jerking backwards, the General spun to gaze in incredulous disbelief at the wall of Wutain soldiers that was rapidly approaching them from behind. Like a sea of armor and silver, they fanned out to block off any hope of escape. Sephiroth was an efficient, relentless soldier...but he was not a God. Even he knew when he was beaten...when the possibility of victory had slipped from his fingers like so many grains of sand.

Today, he was going to die.

Strangely, he didn't dread the concept of his death. Breathing through the pain in his thigh and the hot... relentless slide of blood down his leg, Sephiroth shifted yet again into the 'guard’ position... watching as what remained of his men fell into place behind him. No, he wasn't frightened of dying today. He was frightened of the idea that he was going to die without telling Genesis how much he cared about him...that he was going to bleed out on the battlefield without any hope of reconciliation. He was afraid to die….but not because he couldn't handle pain…

...Sephiroth didn't want to die because he'd never really gotten the chance to live.

* * *

Genesis knew that if he gripped the yoke any harder, it’d probably break, and instead of reaching Sephiroth and his men, they’d fall to their deaths in Goddess-knew-where.

The ominous canopy of clouds coupled with the constant rain made for almost zero visual. Based on the navigation however, they were right where they were supposed to be.

“Team Beta, prepare for landing. We’ll cover for you.” He spoke into the mic as they started their descent, parting a seemingly never ending column of condensed water vapor until they could finally see the battlefield.

His lips pressed into a tight line as he took in the bloody massacre below, before opening fire on the advancing line of Wutain army. He wanted, desperately, to look around for a splash of silver, to see Sephiroth standing somewhere, fighting, anything; just not as another body rolling in their own blood. But he forced himself to concentrate, kept pushing the red button as he watched the other massive airplane touchdown just behind the General’s remaining forces.

“Take over.” Genesis ordered his second-in-command who had been standing in the cockpit, taking the headset off while his co-pilot took control of the aircraft momentarily. Switching places with the Second Class, he watched from the windows as Wutai troops fell like dominos under heavy gunfire. “Drop us down in the center then advance to their back and cut their retreat. Permission to use missiles and every other thing this bird has on it. If things get out of hand fall back to the nearest post. Understood?”

“Sir, yes sir.” The Second class nodded firmly, his eyes on the sea of men below them.

“Godspeed.” The redhead whispered over his shoulder before running toward the rear of the aircraft. Countless nameless men were buckling up as the cargo door started opening, following him with their eyes as he was running past, off to do what Sephiroth would probably call the most stupid idea ever. Honestly, from what he had seen, it was probably suicide, but they had no other choice.

At the end of the hull, a platoon of his finest soldiers were awaiting his order, ready to jump to their doom if he was the one leading them. “Follow me.”

Closing his eyes for an infinitesimal moment as he jumped over the backside cargo door, Genesis cast two subsequent Gravigas, levelling the Wutain army and everything below him in a 50 foot radius. A smirk was tugging on the corner of his lips. If their men were already disoriented, what would happen when they saw his next move?

The second his boot touched the soft wet soil, the cacophony of guns being cocked reached his ears only to falter as the sky darkened only momentarily above them. An eerie sinister glow bloomed just above the clouds, getting bigger and brighter before a bright sphere of non-elemental magic collided to the ground. Within seconds, men were screaming around him in agony as their bones shattered inside their bodies from the impact, some from the horror as the giant Bahamut Zero flew overhead with an inhuman screech. The others who had been lucky and brave enough started attacking him, opening fire.

Dodging to the side, he deflected the bullets with the blunt of his sword before lunging forward. His men had landed right behind him, and he could hear the Wutains’ call for order among the screech of bullets along blades, among the clangs and the death rattles of fallen faceless men. His ruby blade tore through flesh like butter, painting him in vivid splashes of blood before being washed away by the rain. His auburn hair stuck damply to his head, his clothes already starting to soak through as he cleared a path in front of him. To his right, a Wutain troop was about to skewer him with his gunblade, before he dodged, twirling around him and swinging his sword in a semicircle, lodging it in his spine before freeing it only to cut down another man who was leaping at him.

His foothold on the ground was slippery at best as he parried attack after attack, attempting to deal single critical blows to every enemy who stood in his way. This battle would have already been over if he hadn’t depleted his magic reserves with casting two giant barriers around the planes, and the others he had already used here. Genesis cursed under his breath.

To his South, the Wutain army was trying to take down the enormous summon that had been reaping their numbers, taking them up to the heavens with its claws only to release them midair where they fell to a crippling demise. Further, his men had probably already joined Sephiroth’s army in the fray. For a single moment, he turned to look back, but an explosion jarred him back to reality.

His ears were ringing as dirt and bits of charred flesh showered him. A hand found his shoulder and Genesis nearly cut it off before noticing it was his lieutenant; he was speaking but the redhead could only see his lips move as he helped him up from where he had fallen. Shaking his head, he tried to clear it, ordering his men to keep moving forward, toward the back of the Wutain army.

Earth shook beneath his feet again but he steadied himself, hearing a faint scream before nearly being cleaved in half as a body slammed into him, rolling them in the mud. Using the momentum to throw the trooper over his head, Genesis got up as quickly as he could before pushing his sword into the man’s chest. Another explosion nearly made him almost fall face first in the mud if it weren’t for Rapier.

Suddenly there was a stab of crippling pain in his side followed by a blooming wave of heat; a burning sensation in his abdomen. His vision swam as he looked around, seeing so many faceless men, lying haphazardly here and there like rag dolls, all but forgotten as their blood tinged the gray sodden soil before Genesis found his assailant. The man was saying something, but the redhead could hear nothing but static. A euphoric expression crossed the man’s sunburnt features as he tore his gunblade free from his side. His grip on Rapier’s hilt tightened as he drew on the last ounce of magic he had, snarling as he cast Ultima.

Slumping against the blunt of his sword, he was fading in and out of consciousness, holding his side limply which was doing nothing to suffuse the bleeding. It would soon be over, he tried to assure himself. He wasn’t going to die here, not without seeing Sephiroth at least, without saying that he was sorry, that he wanted him more than anything he had wanted his whole life.

The continuous wave of explosions were the final attempts of Wutai’s scattered army to strike back, and to cover their tracks as they made their escape. Genesis wasn’t a fool to believe it was over, but it probably gave them enough time to gather their forces, or possibly fall back.

No, he wasn’t going to die here.


	8. Chapter Eight

Sephiroth had never wanted to do inchoate amounts of violence to someone who was unconscious before.

Sitting in a makeshift medical tent with his leg wrapped in several layers of bandage; the silver-haired man stared mutinously at the redheaded idiot sleeping in the cot next to him. Genesis had risked his life to save their cause, which was not particularly unusual. What _was_ unusual was the fact that he’d apparently disobeyed directives in order to bring what amounted to two battalions with him. Lazard was furious, the President might as well have been foaming at the mouth when he’d taken the call during a brief lull in combat. They’d been threatened with a full-scale inquiry and the Commander was suspended from duty for at least a month by word of mouth. Sephiroth had very nearly told Tseng to go fuck himself when he informed him that he’d be shadowed upon returning to HQ, and Angeal was practically hysterical.

In the end, they’d won.

He’d been surprised, at first...when two Gravigas flattened a third of the Wutain army. This was followed by the immense but ultimately heartening presence of Bahamut Zero as it wrought a necrotic path of destruction across the opposing ranks. Locked in the throes of combat, he’d only been able to ponder the added force that had ultimately led to their salvation. It was unusual for Shinra to provide aid in situations like this, especially when he was in charge. It was assumed that success was guaranteed, but he was glad that this time it had been decided otherwise. His men-who had previously been resigned to a bloody, lengthy fight to the death-seemed to gain whatever spirit they had lost; pushing forward with enthusiasm. What had once seemed like a fruitless endeavor was now outlined with a sliver of hope.

Shinra’s armies met en masse; pushed forward until the only thing that remained of the enemy were countless bodies, discarded weapons, and pools of blood that soon dissipated with the rain...soaking into the soil to become dark, rust-colored recollections. The explosions that had torn ground and bodies asunder dissipated until they were no more; clouds of acrid, foul-smelling smoke the only indicators that they had ever occurred at all. It was a pivotal moment, one borne from the dregs of despair and resignation. Someone less analytical than he might have called it a miracle, but he was inclined to associate it more with luck. They were lucky to have a Commander who cared so much about his men, about preventing unnecessary deaths; lucky to have someone like Genesis, who wouldn’t and couldn’t turn a blind eye to slaughter.

That didn’t mean their losses were insignificant.

Sephiroth estimated he had lost at least five hundred men; a quarter of the battalion he’d been assigned to initially. Overall, they were short about seven hundred soldiers...the largest amount of deaths Shinra had incurred since the army was instated. It would weigh on him...he knew...he was responsible for the lives of those he commanded and in this instance, his performance had been less than stellar. This would be a stain on his record, and not because they’d been pitted against a foe that was impossible to beat. No, this would tarnish his reputation because he’d been careless...plain and simple. Distraction had won over him and he’d folded under its weight like the weakest of men. There was no excuse for it. Facing the verity of his neglect was hard, writing it down in his report was harder. He took responsibility for it because it was the only thing he could do, because it was the truth, because otherwise it would be assumed that Genesis had flagrantly and ostentatiously went rogue for absolutely no other reason than to flaunt his disobedience in the face of his superiors.

Upon receiving his report, Lazard had called him to inform him that he was facing the possibility of a dishonorable discharge.

Gritting his teeth, Sephiroth closed his eyes and attempted to center himself. Discharge for him meant something entirely different than what it did for a common civilian. _Discharge_ meant returning to the labs, to Hojo...to scientists who would pull him apart and put him back together again somehow ‘improved.’ Discharge meant a cell, a prison with no windows, twenty four hour surveillance and no interaction other than with those who were monitoring his progress. Stripped of his title, robbed of his basic human rights and left to fester in the dark. Discharge meant no Genesis, no hope of anything other than what they’d already had, no possibility of moving forward...whether as friends or lovers. The soldier in him understood it, acknowledged it and accepted it for what it was; the consequence of his inexcusable actions. The individual in him shriveled at the idea, retreated into dark mental corners to contemplate the possibility of the hopeless future that awaited him.

A soft groan from the cot gave him pause, and he watched as sapphire eyes opened somewhat...gazing forward confusedly before closing again. The Commander mumbled something indiscernible, shifting slightly before falling still once more. The knowledge that Genesis had been the one to provide aid to their cause had been at once relieving and terrifying. Standing underneath a field tent, leaning heavily on Masamune as a medic tried to clean his wounds, he’d been given the news by a weary cadet who looked like he was about to fall over. Scanning the area with a practiced gaze, the General had fallen into panic. Because this was an officer’s tent...and there was a very prominent officer that was missing.

It was a full-scale search and rescue mission after that.

Picking through corpses was grim work, but it was worth it. They'd spent hours scouring the battlefield to find their missing Commander semi-conscious, surrounded by the bodies of perhaps eighty Wutain soldiers. He was covered in blood, but the majority of it didn't belong to him. It suffused his leathers and encrusted Rapier's blade almost entirely; only the faintest hint of its customary rubicund glow visible under dregs of congealed hemoglobin. More worrisome than that was the wound in his side; mostly healed by mako’s regenerative prowess but still exposed enough to be an issue of concern. The redhead had tried to talk to him as they lifted him onto a stretcher; tried to reach out with seeking, familiar fingers as Sephiroth barked orders to the medics that surrounded him. He was forced to ignore it out of need for haste; the necessity of getting the older man to a med unit as quickly as possible.

Now, as the man in question groaned and opened his eyes, the silver-haired First was forced to come to terms with the fact that Genesis was here, now. And as ocean-blue eyes focused on him, softened with affection and yet hardened with reticence at the same time... Sephiroth said the first thing that came to mind...what he had _wanted_ to say for days on end;

“...I missed you.”

Genesis said something but his voice was just too low for it to be intelligible, before trying again. “Is it over?” It was still spoken lowly, but Sephiroth nodded. The redhead relaxed significantly, before tensing again as he tried to rise from the cot, wincing and gripping his side.

Without even thinking about it, Sephiroth reached forward, easing the redhead onto his back. Azure eyes were looking him up and down, before settling on the bandages around his thigh. “You’re hurt…” A frown was creasing the older man’s brow while he stared at his wound, as though doing so would heal it somehow. Genesis inhaled sharply before looking away, but the silver-haired man could see from his profile as his bottom lip trembled ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry…” The redhead confessed, his voice breaking, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there… I didn’t even come to say goodbye… And you could have been dead...” The older man had turned to his side, curling in on himself before exhaling sharply as the movement strained his healing wound.

Sephiroth was at a loss for words. He wasn’t good at comforting people, and with Genesis he didn’t even know what to do, how to react that wasn’t wrong. It was pretty much obvious that the redhead was upset. The silver-haired man reached tentatively forward to put a hand on the older man’s shoulder but it seemed like it’d just been the calm before a storm.

Genesis jumped to his feet almost instantly, striding toward the entrance flap, favoring his right side as his hand clutched his wound even harder. Sephiroth could almost smell the copper in the air.

“Genesis, wait.” He said hastily, rising only to hiss at the pain that traveled up his leg. He forced himself to work through it; swiftly moving forward, managing to catch the redhead's sleeve and nearly dragging both of them down in the process. Steadying himself on a tent post, the General gritted his teeth as the redhead glared expectantly at him, the arm attached to the sleeve he'd caught hold of poised to strike if needed. More prominent than that, however, was the guilt in his eyes...over _what?_ Because of some stupid wound? The Commander had just saved a massive portion of Shinra's army; that had to count for something. “Genesis” He said, more softly this time. “I'm sorry too.”

The flap to the tent rustled and he stepped back, putting a respectful amount of space between them. Sephiroth fully expected his fellow First to take the opportunity to leave, but he didn't. Instead he focused his attention on the far wall, his expression indecisive. A nervous-looking field medic glanced between them; the silver-haired soldier was fairly sure he'd be wringing his hands if it wasn't for his training. As it was, he saluted perfunctorily and then cleared his throat.

“Uh, Sirs.” He began nervously. “Seeing as the Commander's awake, I ought to have a look at him, and he really shouldn't be standing…” He trailed off as the aforementioned 'Commander’ gave him a look that could have stripped paint. “Yes, uh well, I'm sure the General has you well in hand sir.” The cadet turned ghostly white at his poor choice of wording and edged towards the exit. “What I _meant_ was, I'm sure that the General can make you feel much better than I ever could, sir.” Green-Sephiroth reflected-was an interesting color coupled with the traditional soldier blues. “I-I’ll just be going then!”

He disappeared. There was a tense silence between them for a minute.

“You're a hero Genesis.” The younger man continued. “The Brass may not see it but the men do.” He looked seriously into those solemn blue eyes. “...I do.”

Genesis blinked at him, once, twice, three times; it seemed like he either had a hard time believing Sephiroth or was just speechless. But that was before the redhead stepped toward him, closing the distance between them like it had never been there before pulling him in for a slow but sensual kiss. It oddly tasted of salt before something wet dropped on his cheek, the hand cradling the side of his face moving to the nape of his neck as the older man pulled him even closer. A sound that resembled a whimper got lost between the redhead’s heavy breathing and his own, muffled as Genesis’ lips closed over his again and again. It was like the man was trying to tell him something, to convey some feeling; as though he was trying to make up for lost time. Maybe he had missed him too?

When they broke off to catch their breaths, those azure eyes were rimmed with tears, the pinkish hue dusting Genesis’ cheeks, making their color stand out even more. Carefully, reverently Sephiroth reached out with both hands, bringing his palms up to halo the redhead's cheeks; thumbs extending to brush just under scarlet-framed eyelids. Letting one hand dip downwards to cradle the older man's jaw, he drew him forward again; letting their lips meet once more as the sounds of the encampment outside faded away. He'd nearly lost this-Sephiroth reflected-this nearness...this inexorable tangibility. Standing on the battlefield, overcome by the forces pitted against them, he'd been so sure he would never experience anything like this again.

Genesis murmured something against his mouth; some heavy, breathless thing that was swallowed down and hidden between desirous exhalations and shifting fingers. Letting his tongue trace the outer seam of soft, wet lips; the younger man groaned inwardly as he was admitted entry. His taste...his smell, the redhead's _essence_ was familiar to him. Some part of him hearkened to it, embraced it as he never had anything else. Pulling away, Sephiroth swallowed...let his head drop to rest in the crook between Genesis’ shoulder and neck. Running his fingers through crimson locks he exhaled unsteadily, tightening his fingers in scarlet strands as his emotions threatened to overcome him.

“I love you.” He murmured.

Pulling back, the eyes gazing into his soul widened minutely as the redhead tensed against him. Sephiroth knew for a fact that Genesis must have been surprised enough by his confession to let the expressions pass over his face unguarded. Surprise, confusion, fear… he could see them all swirling in those blue lakes. And there was something else, something before the older man seemed to notice; his features closing off in an instant, his eyes narrowing as he stepped back, extracting himself from the younger man’s embrace.

“What did you say…?” Was it _disbelief_ that he’d seen in those eyes? Because that was how Genesis’ voice sounded like right now.

The silver-haired man swallowed, suddenly desperately aware that he had made a mistake in voicing what he felt. It made sense, really. He _knew_ Genesis, knew that love was something he never spoke of in a literal sense. And he'd promised himself he would never let this get so far...that he'd pull back if he needed to. As romantic as the redhead might be, it was a fantastical concept...a corporeal concept that belonged in plays and poems. The Commander didn't-wouldn’t-associate deep affection with reality. A few weeks ago, he would have said the same. But it was intrinsically different with the older man; and not because he was fantastic in bed. No, Sephiroth loved Genesis because he made him feel grounded...secure.

For so many years he’d felt as if he was teetering on the edge of utter abandon. The labs left him unmoored, cast out into an empty and impersonal world whose only goal seemed to be to use him. War was a dutiful thing, a habitual thing...like paperwork or running drills. He'd lived his life fetterless; like a leaf that had dropped from the tallest of trees only to eternally descend into a darkened void. Forever falling...forever blind to the actuality of his purpose. Genesis had given him purpose; given him a reason to wake up in the morning for something other than duty. Genesis had given him laughter, affection, and closeness in a way he'd never experienced it before. Genesis had given him the illusion of shared affection and once struck he was smitten, drinking deep until nothing but the illusory irreality of their cohesion remained.

But Genesis didn't feel the same.

Sephiroth closed his eyes, his shoulders hunching involuntary as he forced himself to accept the reality of their situation. He couldn't take it back. To do so would be unforgivable, cowardly...but most of all, it would be dishonest. The fact that the man before him didn't like and didn't return his feelings didn't change what his heart was telling him. Straightening, the silver-haired First once again met the Commander's gaze, determined that he should see the verity behind his subsequent statement.

“I love you.” He repeated, low and controlled. “I won't tell you otherwise.”

“You…” Genesis trailed off, watching him with an incredulous expression before continuing. “You can’t.”

It was Sephiroth’s turn to be surprised now. The redhead seemed to be struggling with something as he turned away to look at the entrance, his profile suddenly looked weary to the silver-haired man as he ran those long fingers -the same fingers that kept brushing his hair on Genesis’ sofa that night, tracing soothing circles against his scalp- in his fiery tresses. Was he struggling because he wanted to say something just to make him feel better? Did he just want to escape, to vanish just as quickly as he had come? Again?

The older man turned to look at him. “Sephiroth, look-…”

The silver-haired man raised his hand to stop him, the urge to press his fingertips to those lips was strong, to feel their soft texture beneath his thumb, feel Genesis’ breath ghosting over his skin as he parted them. What was going to become of them now? Directing his gaze downwards, Sephiroth made a study of the packed earth beneath his boots... suddenly wishing it would simply rise up and swallow him. Because as much as he knew his feelings weren't returned, he wanted them to be.

“-It’s fine.” He interrupted, shaking his head. “I don't expect you to return my feelings.” He let out his breath in an expansive, tension-filled rush. Reaching out for what seemed like the thousandth time, he placed a careful hand on the Commander's arm. Slowly, gently, he rotated the older man 'till they were facing each other; till the sapphire of those beautiful eyes seemed to encompass his entire vision. Leaning forward, he let his forehead press against that ruffled, riotous wealth of scarlet hair...closing his eyes as he did so. “It's okay.” He murmured. “You don't have to do anything, I'm not asking you to. Just…” He broke off, inhaled deeply and cupped the curve of an alabaster cheek, letting his thumb swipe down to the jawline. “... Don't go.”

“I’m not.” Genesis’ hands rose to cradle both sides of his face, his blue eyes burning with determination as they held his gaze. “I’m not going anywhere. I want you, Sephiroth. I want this, _us_. I don’t give a damn about Shinra or anyone.”

Those hands snaked around his neck before Genesis pulled him close, burying his face in the crook of Sephiroth’s neck. “I missed you.” The redhead’s voice was muffled, his lips, his breaths moving against the silver strands that almost tickled his skin. Still holding onto him, the older man drew back slightly, just enough to watch him with the same curious expression that was uniquely Genesis before asking “Are you cleared to go back?”

Sephiroth stiffened. He hadn't thought this far. In truth, he should have brought it up directly, but he'd gotten distracted with cajoling his second-in-command and then confessing to him. Pulling back somewhat, he opened his mouth, closed it again...watched with apprehension as the visage before him grew suspicious and reticent. Slowly, the redhead stepped back, folded his arms and raised a scarlet brow as he waited for his response. The silence seemed to stretch between them...ever lengthening, ever thinning in its tenuity. Taking a deep breath, the General prepared to speak, relaxed his posture and parted his lips-

-And his phone rang.

The shrill, unrelenting sound seemed to encompass the entirety of the enclosed space; felt like it was rattling around in his mind before bouncing out of his ears to make a circuit of the tent only to start all over again. Genesis huffed and rolled his eyes, gesturing for him to proceed. Reluctantly, the younger man pulled the offending item out of his pocket...his spirits plunging as he saw the name splashed across the screen in bright lettering; L. Deusericus. Swallowing, the silver-haired First flipped the device open and held it to his ear.

“Sephiroth here.”

_“General.”_

Lazard's voice was neutral, clear and cold. There was no missing the way sky blue eyes flashed towards him before focusing on the slight gap in the tent folds again. Mako enhancements had their upsides...but they had their downsides as well...those downsides being that five feet of space was not enough to have a private telephone conversation.

“Sir.” he said dully.

_“You and Commander Rhapsodos will have separate hearings in order for the Board to fully understand the parameters of this... catastrophe. Rhapsodos’ suspension will begin forthwith, and last for the entirety of the week. No decisions have been made regarding your discharge, but you should both have all relevant papers gathered prior to your hearings. This includes tactical maps and all relevant reports. You are encouraged to select some of your men to back up your statements.”_

“That won't be necessary, on my part.” The General said flatly. “I take full responsibility.”

There was static on the other end of the line before the Director spoke again.

_“... Nevertheless, this information is still relevant to Commander Rhapsodos. Please pass it along. Until then, General.”_

“Sir.” Sephiroth said hoarsely.

There was an abrupt click and then the long, low drone of the 'call dropped’ tone. Slowly, the green-eyed soldier lowered his phone... flipping it shut with his forefinger and slipping back into his leathers. The silence was deafening. He couldn't look around him, couldn't bear to see the shock of Genesis’ face after hearing what he'd heard. Instead, he looked yet again at the earth at his feet...wishing that somehow, _anyhow,_ he could have done something differently.

Aside from the voices of the soldiers going on and about outside the tent and the sound of their breaths nothing permeated the quiet that had fallen around them like a heavy blanket. It seemed that just as unwilling as he was to break it, Genesis was as well. Well, that was before a peal of laughter cut through it, short lived as it was as the redhead winced, his hand returning to his side to hold it once more.

“Catastrophe? That’s what they’re going to call it then. The Rhapsodos catastrophe.” The redhead ‘hmm’ed, a corner of his lips quirking down in an ugly sneer. “Father will be pleased.”

Sephiroth hadn’t intended for the redhead to know about it this way, but he also hadn’t thought about how he was going to break the news either. He really had nothing to say to that, but to repeat what he had already told him.

Genesis never talked about his life back at Banora much, mostly it was Angeal who reminisced the few times all three of them managed to meet. The only times the redhead had actually mentioned anything about his past were either what Sephiroth could now call fond memories of Angeal’s mother, Gillian, or remarks like this about his parents. It always made him wonder how someone could ever hate his family so. But then again, he’d never had one. He wouldn’t know. The closest person he could’ve called family had been Gast… But he, too, had left him. Only to come back in the same sentence with the word ‘dead’ as Hojo had informed him.

“This is all a joke, isn’t it?” Sephiroth realized for a moment, that he had almost missed what Genesis had been going on about, if the redhead had been talking at all. The older man was watching him sternly as he elaborated. “Your discharge.”

Slowly, confusedly, the younger man shook his head in response.

“No.” He said calmly. He hesitated before speaking again. This wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting...not to a certain degree anyway. The outrage, the borderline hysteria...that was expected. What was not expected was the accusation directed at him. “You...don’t understand.” He said heavily, the pain in his leg suddenly becoming almost unbearable as weariness overtook him. Crossing the space back to the cot, he sank down; covering his face with his palms...disregarding the slide of silver hair over his shoulders as he bowed his head. Lifting it once more, he was met with an expression of derision. Yet again, he was struck with how _sick_ he was of this...of the assumption that he could be totally without blame. Genesis couldn’t possibly comprehend what he’d gone through in the labs. In all fairness, he’d never told him, and he’d never told Angeal. But he’d never assumed he would come to a point where he would have to. “And for the record I’m doing what I can.”

When his only response was an incredulous scoff, the anger he’d been trying so hard to repress rose to the surface. Standing swiftly, he stumbled, muttered a curse as his leg gave out and forced him to sit down again, hard. Red suffused the bandages, but he ignored it in favor of controlling his temper. Because he was _not_ going to do this song and dance with the Commander again...he was going to keep a level head no matter what was thrown at him. If that meant he had to debase himself to do it...fine. He might not have to worry about scenarios like this much longer in any case. With any luck, he’d be transferred out...somewhere remote where Hojo could do what he liked and damn the consequences.

“I was distracted during the mission.” He began flatly, trying to keep any hint of emotion out of his voice. “My mind...was elsewhere. Due to that, I missed the fact that we were being flanked from behind.” Swallowing against a sharp, stabbing pain, he continued. “In my report, I took responsibility for it. I admitted to preoccupation, to ignoring the signs that things weren’t going as I thought we were. Additionally, I heralded your intervention as the only thing that saved this mission from being a complete and total failure.” He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry that this will damage your reputation; that was not my intent. If I could say anything in my defense, I didn’t ask you to come here, but you did, and I’m grateful. You saved a lot of good men.” Sephiroth continued. “My discharge is a distinct possibility, because I was negligent at Command. That’s completely reasonable grounds for dishonorable release. Your suspension will only last a week. With any luck, by the time it’s over, you can take my place.” He took a deep breath. “If such a thing would happen, I’ll be sequestered in the labs or flown out to a private facility. Hojo has been my ward since I was born, and he won’t be willing to let me live a normal civilian life now. That’s always been consequence of any catastrophic failure on my part, and it always will. I’m Shinra property, I was born here...I don’t have legal citizenship. I’m essentially a possession, a weapon.” Shuddering, he pressed his lips into a thin line. “...And now you know.”

The look on Genesis’ face was aghast, getting even more so with each passing second. And before the redhead started speaking, Sephiroth knew that there was something terribly wrong here.

“IS _that_ how you see _me_?! You think I came all the way here just to save a many good _men_?! For _honor_ and _glory_?! To usurp your _authority_ if you had died in that battlefield?! IS that how you see me _Sephiroth_?!” The redhead was quite indignant, and for a second Sephiroth wondered if they really could make it out of this mission alive, because the possibility of Genesis’ casting one of those Gravigas was getting higher and higher with each syllable that passed through those lips.

The silver-haired man was about to open his mouth, not sure of what to say before Genesis raised a hand to silence him. “Let me finish. _You!_ ” An accusatory finger was pointed toward him. “Have _nothing_ to do with this...” His second-in-command was making gestures with his hand, a look of pure contempt settling over his features before throwing them up in the air, continuing. “ _Catastrophe! No one_ , no other commanding officer could have managed the situation better than you! Shinra has to see that! If it weren’t for _you_ , their army would have perished had you been beguiled enough not to set camp with victory after victory laid at your feet. You were tired, you’d been fighting and living for days under horrendous conditions. You know that, I know that, even Angeal and Lazard know that! You had every right to _err_ , Sephiroth.”

Pivoting on his feet with less grace and flair that usually followed his every movement, his fellow First strode to the entrance before going out. Sephiroth hung his head, holding it in his hands, the pain in his leg washing over him but he paid it no heed. He could vaguely hear as Genesis called for medics, wondering if the redhead still wanted to be with him like he had claimed only minutes ago. There was a flap of fabric, and the silver-haired man sat up, only to find smoldering blue eyes glaring at him.

“You know by the Goddess how much I hate that man, but if you think for one second that I-... that _we’re_ going to let Shinra discharge you that easily, you’re _mistaken_. Just as mistaken as you are about what you think you know about _me_.” Genesis glared at him for a moment more, before turning his back and walking a few steps toward the door. The older man looked over his shoulder, his visage hidden behind the fiery tresses as he spoke. “You aren’t a possession, or a weapon, Sephiroth. You are **A** person… A human.”

Right at that moment the medic came inside, paling as he saw the big patch of crimson dyeing the bandages on Genesis’ side. “Sir, you shouldn’t be standing. Let me look at that-...”

The redhead sharply swatted the medic’s hand aside before exiting the room. For a few moments, the General and the medic simply stared at each other. Then, slowly, Sephiroth dropped his head into his hands yet again, and began to laugh.

Because if _Genesis_ didn’t drive him crazy, nothing would.


	9. Chapter Nine

The brass, as Sephiroth had put it, refused to see him in any other light than the one responsible for the Rhapsodos catastrophe as Genesis himself had dubbed it. He had tried explaining the situation to them in his hearing, over and over again, but to no avail.

The helicopter that had transported him and Sephiroth to the base had barely touched down when he’d been escorted to the conference room. Thankfully Lazard and Angeal had backed him up strategically, but in terms of disobeying the protocol, there was simply nothing the director and his childhood friend could’ve done. When the president had suggested that he was a double agent, for ‘how else could he have seen what General Sephiroth hadn’t been able to?’; that he’d only decided to go against Wutai because of his relationship with the General, Genesis had wanted to laugh, managing to suppress his mirth to an amused smile.

It was troubling that the company he’d spent almost a decade working for, the place he’d been willing to put his life on the line for, didn’t trust him; didn’t believe that he’d done the right thing. Genesis had almost yelled at them while he’d explained that if they had waited a few more hours, Sephiroth and their army would have been no more. Silence had met his words.

In the end, his suspension had been extended to two weeks, and he was probably going to be tailed by Turks at all times. Oh, and he was grounded; he was supposed to stay at the headquarters 24/7. It was ridiculous.

When he had finally left the room, Sephiroth was waiting for his own hearing on the other side. Genesis was still angry with him, schooling his features into neutrality as he had passed the silver-haired man without a single word, just as he had during the entirety of their flight back to Midgar. Maybe it was childish; but the redhead just couldn’t bring himself to speak. If he did, it’d probably end in yet another argument. The younger man’s accusations were still fresh in his mind.

Going back to his apartment, he’d had ample time to think about them over and over again while cleaning the state of mess he’d left the place in.

Sephiroth had told him that he loved him.

Him.

Genesis Rhapsodos. The pompous brat of the Rhapsodos family.

It was impossible.

As much as he wanted to believe it, to hold it close to his heart, where it should belong, it slipped through his fingers like the sands of Costa del Sol. Genesis couldn’t understand why? How?

In his childhood, he had always wanted his parents to love him. From being the doll his mother had wanted him to be, to the ambitious smart boy who was going to follow in his father’s footsteps. But as he’d grown up, he’d realized that no matter what he did, no matter how he behaved, all he could earn was hollow words and gestures. The more he’d craved, the less he’d come up with. It’d left him torn, broken. Despite all the pain it’d entailed, he’d tried to sever himself from them; to expect nothing from them, from everyone for that matter. He’d grown cold, distant as the years wore on. People showed him their true colors, only sticking to his side for either money or because he was the mayor’s son. All of them trying to take, take, take.

Every single one of them; except Angeal.

The raven-haired man, despite growing up in a poor family, never asked him for anything. Genesis had known somewhere, deep down, buried under all the indifference and hate for everyone and everything, that he should have given him something, anything. But the redhead had never offered and Angeal had never asked. It had always been the other way around. His childhood friend and his mother had been the ones who’d given him all the things he had missed; happiness, warmth. He’d learnt loyalty from how his childhood friend had stuck with him through thick and thin instead of fleeing the moment he was given the chance.

From his parents he’d learnt social graces and etiquette; learnt to be sophisticated and stuck up. But to him, it all amounted to nothing compared to what Angeal and Gillian had been giving him. And yet, it seemed that no matter how much his childhood friend and his mother tried, it didn’t fill the void inside him. It seemed that nothing did.

Coming to Shinra had changed nothing. In fact, it had made things worse. With the constant threat of death hanging over their heads, Genesis had withdrawn; instead of trying to spend more time with Angeal and later Sephiroth, he’d thrown himself headfirst into a hedonistic abyss that had left him emptier day after day. He hadn’t cared how much time and money he wasted, because he couldn’t stand the oppressive feeling of emptiness eating him from the inside. He hadn’t cared how many hearts he broke, because he simply didn’t have one himself. They’d come to him declaring their _love_ after spending a night with him, and the redhead had answered them with a scoff or a snide remark before leaving them to drown in their tears.

He hadn’t seen it coming with Sephiroth. Thinking about it now, as he picked up the shards that reflected facets of his face from the ground, Genesis could see that he’d simply been too surprised to answer that like he had the claims before. The silver-haired man had to take it back; he had to do something, anything before they could go down that road. The younger man didn’t know what he was telling him, giving him his heart on a silver platter; didn’t know the power that was behind those words.

Genesis couldn’t accept it. Because if he did, he’d just take, and take, and take till Sephiroth had nothing more left. The realization made him want to scream his lungs out; made him want to take one of the bigger splinters and bleed himself dry. The silver-haired man didn’t deserve this; he deserved someone better, someone who could love him, unconditionally; someone perfect, not someone broken like him.

Genesis knew he was unable to give the younger First what he wanted, but the image of him being with someone else… It felt like someone had stabbed him in the gut, twisting and turning the knife while it was still inside him. Was it too much to expect them to just be together?

* * *

To say that his trial was successful would be a lie.

Waiting for the elevator that would take him to the Science Division, Sephiroth attempted to dispel the pall of humiliation and shame that hung over him like a blanket. In terms of the company, it was a total victory. In terms of his reputation, he’d be building from the ground up at this point. Administration was merciless, questioning his every move until he’d gone over the mission from beginning to end at least four times. The President made a point of insulting his mental capacity to a degree that was more than indecorous; going as far to suggest that perhaps some massive facet of his cognizance had been knocked loose and needed to be rewired. The General had-in all his time alive-never been called _stupid_ before. Today seemed to be a day to end all days because he’d been labeled that along with ‘careless’, ‘reckless’, and 'negligent.’

Despite his obvious disapproval in terms of his actions, Lazard had spoken briefly in his defense; pointing out that Sephiroth had never erred in mission parameters before. He continued on to add that regardless of his training, Shinra's finest was only human, and that this was bound to happen at some point. It was 'unfortunate’ that such error had to happen during such a vital task, but surely, they didn't expect constant perfection. The President had scoffed at this, pointed out that Sephiroth had been reared for infallibility. He'd gone on to suggest that Genesis had somehow rubbed off on him, that their 'salacious association’ with each other now bore the product of an imperfect entity. The word _'ruined’_ was thrown into the mix...like he was somehow a machine infected with a virus that was not expungeable.

Then Hojo was called to the stand.

The minute his caregiver walked into the conference room, Sephiroth knew he would have hell to pay. The Scientists eyes were blazing behind his spectacles, and the look he sent his way was full of dark promise. Ironically, it was the entrance of the madman that saved him. Softly, soothingly, Hojo explained that he had been remiss in checking in on his charge; that the cultures requiring his attention in the labs had subverted his focus and blinded him to the fact that 'the boy’ needed reconditioning. With flattery, assurances and empty words the scientist charmed his audience. Sephiroth watched as the President relaxed, as the other Board members chuckled amongst themselves. Only Lazard still looked worried. If he were being generous, the green-eyed First might have gone as far to say that he looked alarmed.

Sephiroth couldn't say he blamed him.

It wasn't a secret that Hojo was not circumspect with how he treated his patients...human or not. The General had spent a good portion of his youth strapped to a gurney staring into a round surgical light. As the head of the Scientific Division and a good reason for much of their earnings,the grey-haired, bespectacled man was given free reign. Long ago, Gast had tried to protect him from it. Sephiroth had fond memories of sitting in a plastic chair in the former Head’s labs while he carefully bandaged his wounds. He'd looked up to him, admired him...asked him countless times why he wouldn't simply take over Hojo's position as his caretaker. Each time, the gentle rebuff he received in return dug a little deeper. To his credit, Gast had tried to be present as much as he could. If one of the techs didn't have time to tutor him he was quick to take over, and he never said no to the presence of a little silver-haired boy in his office.

Trying-of course-could only get you so far.

The news of Gast’s death had devastated him... broken him in ways he still wasn't sure he'd fully processed. He wasn't allowed to go to the funeral, and there was no memorial for the esteemed scientist to speak of. Afterwards, it became quickly apparent that Hojo had been holding back. Sephiroth spent the rest of his days before the initiation of the SOLDIER program in a cell. Cold...dark...with no windows to speak of, he wiled away his days in solitary confinement. Let out for education and training, he quickly became accustomed to isolation. If he protested against it he was dragged to the labs for reconditioning. Even now, Hojo still took a kind of sick pleasure in tearing him apart only to build him back up again. It had been a long time since he'd done so; but he was fully aware of the fact that he was never going to be truly free of it.

So, Lazard had every right to look concerned.

In the end, he was suspended from duty. Considering that his alternative was discharge, Sephiroth took the consequences without protest. He was grounded, warned away from Genesis yet again, and ordered to attend tactical courses for the foreseeable future. The hearing wound down, Administration was dismissed and the General was left to concede when he was ordered down to the labs.

As the lift doors opened upon the Science Division, Sephiroth forced himself not to hesitate as he stepped out and into the whitewashed hallway. When taking the layout of a hospital into consideration, it was much the same; the only difference being that everything was on the same floor. To the left was Medical; housing Emergency Services, Surgery, Occupational Therapy, and Recovery. To the right was Science; with Neurology, Diagnostics, and the Medical and Research Laboratories. The final unit of the aforementioned was subdivided into microbiology, chemistry, and experimental. If a soldier was in need of intensive care they were usually shipped out to a hospital on the upper plate, with their stipends taken into consideration. Both Hojo and Hollander had vast stations available to them; each with their own separate lab. Sephiroth saw very little of Hollander, but he knew from word of mouth that he was agreeable, if a little bit pathetic.

Pulling out his keycard, the General forced himself to relax before opening the door to Hojo’s domain. Showing panic only seemed to spur his ward to insurmountable heights, and he had no desire to prolong their encounter longer than was necessary. The technicians didn’t pay him any mind, preferring to attend to their assigned tasks as he walked among them like a silver phantom. Huddled around autoclaves, photometers, and ULT freezers, Hojo’s employees seemed to take an apathetic approach to his presence. Beyond them was a set of heavy double doors activated by facial recognition, these opened for him almost instantly...swinging inwards to reveal the private section of the labs. It wasn’t an overly large room; it had just enough space to accommodate its owner’s personal equipment and the space with which to use it. Hojo’s office was to the right, the door partially ajar. Steeling himself, Sephiroth stepped forward; crossing the linoleum tile separating him from the offending doctor and lifting his hand to knock.

There was a pause, the thump of what sounded like a heavy research volume closing, and the man of the hour stepped out into the chilly lab. Almost instantly the silver-haired First felt his spirits plunge into his stomach. Hojo’s eyes were like brands of steel, the smile that stretched across his aged features considering and predatory. Casually, the man brushed past him, towards another set of doors leading to what the silver-haired man knew was a surgical unit. Nobody really talked about it, but there was an overall vein of pre-existing knowledge that it existed. The results of the experiments done in that room were several floors below; moaning, growling, foaming and writhing in their mutated states...locked behind concrete walls and several feet of reinforced steel. As far as Sephiroth was aware, he was the only one to ever walk behind those doors to see the light of day again. Resignedly, the General turned to follow, pulling off his gloves as he did so...he wouldn’t need them.

“It’s good to see you again, my boy.” Hojo drawled as he stepped through. That nasally, terribly familiar voice seemed to echo around the painstakingly clean space; tinged with just the edge of instability… Sephiroth knew that it would slowly devolve into a joyous vocal lunacy. Forcing himself not to look at the swatch of white lab coat with its back to him, the green-eyed soldier took slow, apprehensive steps to the operating table in the center of the room. Sinking down, he stared straight ahead, at a glass cabinet filled with red vials. Blood. His blood. How old it was he didn’t know, didn’t care. “You’re behavior has been quite terrible of late, so I see.” The stern tone danced just on the edge of mockery, closing his eyes...he ignored it. When the scientist spoke again, it was right next to his ear. “I’m quite _thrilled_ about it, don’t you know?”

“Get on with it.” Sephiroth muttered through gritted teeth.

Hojo made a soft ‘tsk’ing noise that seemed to reverberate in his psyche, straight down to his bones.

“So defiant.” He purred.

And those twisted...fanatical hands were closing around his neck; squeezing just slightly and _no._ He jerked away, his breath coming out in a sharp, panicked exhalation before he could stop it. The man before him paused, cocked his head consideringly...and then he threw back his head and laughed. It was a horrible sound, something borne from hundreds of memories of pain, of loneliness and darkness and terror. In that moment, Sephiroth had never wanted Genesis more...never longed for him more. But Genesis was angry with him; for telling him he loved him, for accusing him of implicating something that he hadn’t. He’d be lucky if the redhead ever talked to him again, and there was no point in wishing for him here. Slowly, the degenerate individual currently grasping the front of his coat seemed to gather himself; the sound of his mirth died away but that monstrous grin remained.

“You know,” He said blithely, turning and marching towards a cabinet out of the silver-haired man’s line of vision. “I wouldn’t like you half so much if you didn’t give me such a damnably hard time.” There was the slide of some unable material-something much like velcro-and the rustle of gathered plastic. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You are going to recite all two-hundred and fifty standard regulations for proper field conduct. Lie down.” He added over his shoulder.

When he complied, there was a soft chuckle. Hojo returned and Sephiroth clenched his jaw as the nylon of a shock conductor was wrapped around both his wrists. There was the ominous *chink* of glass, and he flinched as a needle bit deep into his shoulder. Almost immediately, there was a sensation of virulent cold...and then his senses seemed multiplied tenfold. Raw mako then...as the scientist would say...something to ‘enhance’ the experience. The man in question was speaking again. “Every time you get something wrong, if you’re too slow to respond, too tired to answer…I’m going to use this.”

Silicon-swathed hands waved a black transmitter in front of his visage. A mouthguard was shoved between his teeth and he bit down convulsively, automatically. Brittle, grey hair brushed against his cheeks as Hojo leaned forward, still looming, still smiling.

“We’re going to have so much _fun.”_

* * *

_Thud, thud, thud, thud..._

_The rhythm of their footsteps echoed through the sterile bright corridor._

_Aside from the heavy scent of antiseptic that burned his senses, there was something wrong. He could feel it entirely but paid it no heed._

_“He's alright, Gen.” As though sensing his uneasiness, Angeal tried to assure him, his blue eyes focused ahead of them, the thin pressed line of his lips breaking into a faint smile. It was forced. Genesis could see right through it._

_Rounding a corner, they approached the door. A shudder ran down his spine as Angeal swiped his keycard._

_He didn't feel good about this._

_Unlike the corridor, the lights in the spacious hall were dim. Lab assistants moved around in a flutter of white lab coats, barely acknowledging them._

_‘Titles don't matter here.’ He reminded himself._

_Angeal's posture became stiff beside him, making him look toward the very source of unease._

_Professor Hojo._

_There was a hideous grin on his lips as the old man looked at them, dismissing the assistant who had probably informed him of their arrival with a nonchalant wave of his hand._

_“Hollander’s boys, what brings you here?” Angeal was about to open his mouth when Hojo interrupted him, turning to walk toward some room. “You must be Sephiroth's **friends** , I assume.”_

_“Yes, professor. Do you know where we can find him?” The emotion that shook his friend's voice kept him from speaking. Was it worry? Anxiety? Genesis’ hands balled into fists._

_“How should I know? He's you're comrade in arms.” The old man turned around, taking off his bloodied latex gloves and threw them in an odd-looking bin in a corner of the room. Azure eyes were still riveted on the bin. His heart was beating unusually quickly in his chest._

_“Sephiroth was sent to labs five days ago. But since then, he's just disappeared. I... We…” Angeal paused, looking at him before his sky blue eyes returned to the man who sat comfortably in a chair with an unsettling smile on his lips._

_That was it._

_In a red blur, Genesis was there, yanking the man from the collar of his lab coat and holding him a few inches above the ground. To that, the smile on the professor's lips only grew. “Goddess damn you, where is Sephiroth?” Genesis inquired, his usually melodious voice a dangerous hiss._

_"So the rumors are true.” The elder threw his head back, the grating laugh fueling the redhead's anger. “It seems Hollander's pet has taken a liking to mine.”_

Why had he been so angry?

_“You…” He was mustering all his energy to punch the professor straight into hell when he heard it._

_“He's gone, boy.”_

_Genesis was paralyzed. Denial was the only thought that rang loudest and clearest in his dazed mind. The corners of his lips were twitching upwards. It was the most hilarious joke he'd ever heard. It must be a joke. Hojo was playing with them to see how they'd react. Slender fingers tightened around the skinny throat, threatening to crush the scientist’s windpipe._

_“I didn't know you had such a good sense of humor, professor, but I'm afraid I'm in no mood for your humorless jokes. Where is Sephiroth?” His voice was barely audible, the anger tingeing it._

_“I told you, he's gone. Shipped to another facility outside of Midgar.”_

It’d been almost a week now since no one knew what had befallen the silver-haired General. And despite what Hojo had told them, he knew it wasn't true. It was a vague feeling, some form of connection that told him Sephiroth was still here, in the headquarters. But it was so faint, and Genesis simply didn’t know what else to do. He had tried persuading Tseng to tell him where the other First was, persuading Lazard. But no one knew anything. Well, they probably did, but they didn’t want him to know. And he could only push his luck so far with his career on the line.

It was really late at night, he had just returned to his quarters after going to the Goblin bar. Taking off his coat, he threw it on the back of his sofa before lying down. He’d been frequenting the pub since the General’s disappearance from the face of Gaia, every night now. It was SOLDIER’s stamping ground, from cadets and infantrymen to Seconds and Firsts. It was usually loud and obnoxious, but it was a good place to see everyone, get drunk and have _fun_. However, that wasn’t why he’d gone there. He’d been throwing around the word of Sephiroth’s possible discharge as many times as he could; gauging other soldiers’ reactions, and possibly nudging them toward a more ‘angry’ approach. He hadn’t said anything that could discriminate him, only making sly innuendos, playing the devil’s advocate.

Angeal had been accompanying him, sometimes followed by the spiky-headed Second. Genesis hadn’t cared enough to stop him, but he could see that instead of participating in his debates with other soldiers, his childhood friend had been keener on showing the ropes to the boy. The redhead didn’t want to dwell on it now, but he’d been starting to worry.

He shook his head, a smirk edging on his lips as his eyes bore holes in the nondescript ceiling. He’d heard the whispers about a riot tonight. It’d be magnificent; SOLDIER rising up to take back their General. And there was nothing Shinra could do about it. If the word ever reached Wutai in time, Genesis was sure that Lord Godo wouldn’t lose his chance to strike.

The sharp rapping on his door jarred him back to reality. Sitting and looking at the door with a frown, he wondered who would come to him at such an ungodly hour. Deducing that staring at the slab of wood that made the entrance of his apartment, wouldn’t make it open or reveal the one behind it, he got up from his seat.

On the other side was no one other than Tseng.

“Commander.” The Wutain man’s expression was neutral, his sable eyes betraying nothing about what was going through that head.

“Tseng. What brings-...” Genesis hadn’t even bothered to act like he’d been asleep, or anything; already knowing why the man was there.

“You’re playing a dangerous game.” Tseng deadpanned. “Call it off and mind your own business.”

Genesis smirked. He liked that the man was straight to the point. “Where’s Sephiroth? You know where he is. Tell me and I’ll back down.”

“There will be consequences. You surely know that.” The Turk warned him, to which he only nodded. Turning toward the elevator, the man motioned for him to follow. Running back inside and almost skidding on the white tiles, Genesis retrieved his key card before going after him, locking the door on his way.

He had to bite his tongue not to say ‘I knew it.’ as Tseng pressed the button to sixty seventh floor. The ride was silent and taking far too long than it always did. He was only a second away from tearing down the doors and running up flight after flight of stairs before they opened with a ding. Genesis didn’t care if the Turk came with him or not, falling into a brisk pace as he almost yelled over his shoulder. “Where is he?”

The Wutain man was almost running beside him as he guided them toward the nearest corridor to the elevator, to solitary confinement cells. After swiping his key card, the Turk stood in front of one of the cells before punching in a series of numbers. The light on top of the door flashed green as Tseng walked past him toward the door, before pausing there.

“This isn’t over.” The raven-haired man warned over his shoulder, nodding before leaving with a curtly spoken ‘Commander’.

Genesis didn’t hesitate a moment longer to push the ‘Open’ button beside the door, waiting as the metal slipped back into the wall with a hiss.

Solitary was eternally dark. Lack of light-of course-didn’t matter when it came to those with mako in their systems. The cell was bereft of any niceties save for a single cot covered with a thin mattress. The walls were impermeable, cased in iron and reinforced with several feet of concrete. Sephiroth was not on the bed. No, he was sitting in a corner with his knees drawn up to his chest, the silver fall of his hair obscuring his features. Upon the redhead's entry, he twitched, one arm came down to splay against the concrete, fingers scraping before drawing back in an anticipatory fist. As far as the Commander could see, he was mostly uninjured. There were faint red wheels encircling his wrists, darker in some places than others. He thought he could see the thin remnants of track marks on his arm but they were quickly fading...indicating that they were recent but not so recent that anything could be in his system.

His heart sank to the pit of his stomach as he stepped over the threshold. Tilting his head in hopes to see Sephiroth’s face, Genesis slowly padded inside the room toward him. “Sephiroth?”

The curtain of platinum swayed as the aforementioned man moved, as the silver-haired soldier seemed to hearken to his voice. That familiar, pale head lifted and the eyes that regarded him were dull and distant...somehow absent even in the face of their presence. Offhandedly, through the haze of horror that encompassed him, the Commander noted his fellow soldier’s garb; plain grey pants and a t-shirt of unremarkable style that was similar in shade. His feet were devoid of their usual black boots; clad instead in a pair of socks that were equally nondescript. For the barest of seconds, it seemed as if hope made its way across the younger man's visage; like the briefest flicker of sunlight on a cloudy day. This was quickly replaced by confusion and resignation. Emerald eyes dropped until the General was staring downwards.

“Is this a test?” He muttered at the floor.

Shivering fingers curled over crossed arms as he seemed to shrink before him; as if the sight of the redhead caused him physical pain. It was bizarre really, the knowledge that the perceived illusion of his presence could garner such a reaction. It spoke volumes to the level of Sephiroth's feelings, to the depth of his affection. Because-he realized with mounting incredulity-the man before him cared about him enough that he knew that Shinra could use him against him. That he _expected_ them to use him against him in the worst ways possible. Sephiroth had acknowledged-however subconsciously-that Genesis had a powerful enough hold over him to cripple him if applied correctly.

Genesis knelt down in front of him, lowering his head to search for those green eyes that had looked at him so hopefully only moments ago, tentatively brushing the curtain of silver that hid Sephiroth’s visage. Anger and pain were constricting his heart, squeezing harder and harder that it was almost hard to breathe. The urge to leave the silver-haired man in search for Hojo was strong. He wanted to kill that damned scientist; to stab him in the gut, cast phoenix down on him and do it again. Briefly, he wondered if such a fate would still be too easy for the crimes that the madman had committed.

Sephiroth was still staring at the ground, his trimmed nails digging inside his arm. And for a moment, Genesis just looked up at the ceiling, pleading, begging any deity that was up there to give him strength, for everyone to leave Sephiroth in peace, to let the younger man live his life the way he wanted; because if it was anyone in this world that deserved everything Gaia had to offer, it was the man sitting in front of him. A sigh passed his lips, his eyes closing minutely before he looked down again.

“Sephiroth… It’s me… Genesis.” _‘Please, look at me.’_  Azure eyes were seeking Sephiroth’s as he whispered softly.

It seemed then that Sephiroth accepted reality for what it was. His initial response was heartening. The life in those virile emerald irises returned as he drew in a deep, shuddering breath. Familiar fingers cupped the Commander’s jaw, sliding over his skin until they settled in the hollow beneath his ear. The other hand threaded through his hair...sifting through it, sliding it between thumb and forefinger as if desperate to confirm that this was real. Mouth parted, the silver-haired soldier made a ravenous study of Genesis’ face, as if determined to commit him to memory before it was too late. Slowly, gracefully, he knelt as well, his head dropping to nudge between the redhead’s neck and shoulder...inhaling deeply before he went utterly still.

The relief Genesis felt was paramount. Because _here_ was the Sephiroth he knew. Strong yet somehow always temperate...vibrant yet affectionate...strong and yet generous. He’d been worried that he wouldn’t be able to reach him at this point. Men who were tortured often lost all sense of the concreteness of their surroundings; spiraling into a black hole of rage, paranoia, and fear. Shinra was excellent at taking apart those they wanted to interrogate, and while the General might be stronger than most...he was still only a man. Sighing, the blue-eyed First reached up to cup the back of his companion’s head, letting his hand slide down until his thumb stroked the nape of his neck.

Then, like the ripple of a dark wave passing over the surface of a smooth pond, Sephiroth’s body stiffened. The older man had but a split-second’s warning before the hand in his hair tightened until it was past painful. Those powerful fingers drew his head inevitably, unavoidably back until he was staring into the now-furious orbs of blazing beryl eyes. Pale, cerise lips were drawn back in a sneer he didn’t recognize as the General loomed over him in all his crouching, enraged glory. Yards of silver hair spilled over them as Genesis was yanked further away, until his back was somewhat bowed as he put two red leather-clad hands up in a gesture of peace.

It didn’t work.

The snarl that bubbled up from the column of Sephiroth’s neck was imbued righteous ire. The hand that had been previously cupping his cheek snaked down to grasp his lapels in an iron vice. The room seemed to tunnel, to whirl into a point whose only focus was the man in front of him...the man who obviously didn’t believe that he was real.

“You think you can fool me?” Sephiroth growled. Abruptly, he stood, taking Genesis with him by the collar even as the fingers in his hair released their hold. “You think you can put an illusion in front of me and expect me to fold?” That formidable gaze left his to flit frantically around the room. “You think I don’t know how VR works?!” He yelled at the walls. “I _coordinated_ those simulations, you made me do it, you made sure that each tactical situation was _perfect!_ You think that I can’t see something when it’s right in front of me?!” The hand that was currently free reared back as if to strike him, but at the last minute the younger man faltered. His face went blank before it crumbled into an expression of despair. Genesis found himself released, catching himself and stumbling back before he hit the floor. “What do you want?!” The silver-haired First was shouting. “You already know I can’t stay away from him in reality, what makes you think I’d be able to-” He broke off, shuddered violently before covering his eyes with one hand and walking unsteadily backwards to sit down hard on the cot. “Just stop it.” He whispered. His palm fell and his head followed suit. “Just kill me.”

The silence that hung in the room was suffocating. Genesis couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man who was now sitting on the cot, still avoiding to look at him. There were just too many emotions running through his veins that he actually had to take a minute to clear his head. To think of something, some way to make Sephiroth believe that it was him. Pulling out his shirt from his slacks, he approached the silver-haired man slowly, kneeling by the side of his makeshift bed before grasping his pale wrist in a vice like grip. With his other hand he pulled the fabric up to reveal the healing scar of the wound in his side, and putting the younger’s man palm against it and holding it there.

“If you think I’m a VR simulation, why don’t you try and kill me? Make me bleed. See if I disintegrate into a thousand pieces.” Taking the General’s other hand, he put it around his throat and covering it with his own before squeezing. “Choke me. See if I break.” His voice was coming out a bit rough as Genesis pressed harder.

For a moment, it seemed as if Sephiroth was going to comply with his request. His fingers twitched, pushed until his airway was cut off. They remained for a stretch of time, until black spots bloomed in front of his visage. Then, the hold around his neck loosened, both the General's palms clenching into fists before dropping onto grey-clad knees. Slowly, the silver-haired soldier shook his head, his eyes traveling to the wound on his side, the hunger in them clearly wanting to believe but his logic obviously wasn't letting him. A short, bitter chuckle rang across the cell, terrible in its mirthless state.

“That's exactly the sort of thing a simulation would say.” He said flatly. “Tell me something.” He pressed, and the challenge in his voice was clear. “Tell me something only Genesis would know.” He hesitated. “...What did you use on me...in your apartment...what did you use when we…” He swallowed and looked away. “The night before the morning we woke up together, the first time.” His expression darkened and green eyes snapped back to his. “Not only what you used, but what you did with it.” A wry smirk curled across his lips. “And if you know,” He murmured, bending forward until their lips were nearly brushing. “S _how me,_ but do it to yourself.”

Genesis quirked an auburn eyebrow, a surprised look flashing on his face. “Here?”

It seemed that only served to make the silver-haired man more determined as the smirk on those lips widened. “You don’t know it, do you?” A shudder ran down his spine at Sephiroth’s tone; the way the younger man tilted his head a little to the side, the way he was daring him, the promise of those smooth lips only a breath away made him want for more despite their current setting. 

His eyes took in their surroundings, not finding anything that he could use, Genesis sighed before splaying his hand on the thin grey fabric covering Sephiroth’s chest, pushing him back until the younger man was leaning against the wall. “Look what you’re making me do.” The Commander clutched the hem of his shirt before tearing a piece off, his lips pressed into a tight line. If this wasn’t enough to convince the other First that he was real, the scarlet-haired soldier was going to resort to other means to drag him back to his apartment.

Standing up, he placed one knee after the other on either sides of the younger man’s thighs, coming up on the bed and straddling him as his nimble fingers worked with fastening the cloth around his own eyes. Genesis could hear Sephiroth’s breathing change a little as he got rid of his ruined shirt, letting it fall to the ground behind him in a flutter.

“If it still isn’t enough, touch me.” He ordered, trying to keep his hands at his sides where the other occupant of the room could see them.

And lo, the General _did_ touch. Softly, reverently those hands alighted on the redhead's torso. They skimmed up his sides, softer than the flutter of a butterfly’s wing. The breath ghosting across the Commander's cheeks was suddenly shallow, abruptly ragged. When Sephiroth's fingers reached his face, he cradled his head...his thumb brushing over Genesis’ lips before he replaced it with his mouth. It was a soft kiss, something between a question and an apology. There wasn't as much passion behind it as there was affection. Eventually, the older man registered the barest hint of salt on his taste buds. It was almost enough to make him rip the blindfold off, but he resisted out of respect...he didn't think his fellow First would particularly relish his voyeurism. Drawing away just-barely, Sephiroth let his hands slide from his face into his hair, and the gesture was just as much an attempt at recompense as the kiss.

“Genesis.” He murmured.

Then, the ruined fabric over his eyes was slowly undone...pulled away. Green was gazing into blue and if those eyes were somewhat red-rimmed the scarlet-haired soldier chose to ignore it in favor of bestowing the General with a wry but tender smirk. The younger man uttered something that seemed halfway between pain and relief, lowering his head to rest his head on Genesis-of bare shoulder. Then, he stiffened again, sat up abruptly.

“What are you doing here?!” He hissed. “You need to go.” When the Commander simply groaned, he cursed and pushed him off his lap. “You _need_ to go!” He insisted, and this time there was fear in his voice. “You don't know what they'll do to you if they find you here!”

“I don’t care!” Genesis tried to approach him again, roughly cradling Sephiroth’s face. “Seph, look at me!” The silver-haired man’s hands came up to hold his wrists hard enough to bruise, probably to try and push him away again. “Come with me or I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes sought that of the man before him, pleading silently. “Come with me... to Mideel.” Genesis whispered softly, leaning his forehead to Sephiroth’s as he closed his eyes, breathing him in. He wasn’t going to lose him. Hojo wasn’t going to send the younger man anywhere. The grip on his hands loosened somewhat, and the redhead moved them to the nape of Sephiroth’s neck, his thumb brushing the soft skin in soothing circular motions. “Come with me. Please…”

And through the obvious agony that was his fear, through the tumult of denial that was his habit, the silver-haired soldier gathered himself. A determined look swept across his visage and he stood, drawing Genesis up with him. Those hands encircled his wrists again but this time the gesture was firm and not painful. Gazing into his eyes, Sephiroth seemed to steel himself before nodding.

“Alright.” He murmured. “Let's go to Mideel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Sephiroth agreeing with Genesis' request to come to Mideel seems kind of off, it's because he's still under the effects of Hojo's torture, which makes him somewhat receptive to what's being asked of him or what's being ordered to him.


	10. Chapter Ten

Mideel was beautiful.

Nestled between Quadra Magic and Running Chocobo, the quaint, quiet town was the definition of 'picturesque’. Cycas revoluta towered like green-haired giants over squatting ikkodate; and dirt roads paved a packed path betwixt ferns, kudzu, and mossy boulders. Wooden pathways with rickety slats arched over verdant, rushing streams and rivers. It was peaceful...relaxed and quiet. The people were friendly but not overly sociable; keeping mostly to themselves and their respective homes. Most of the wildlife remained outside the town; with the occasional wandering hare or a hungry fox looking for a loose chicken.

Sitting next to a hot spring with his phone in his lap, Sephiroth watched as a fiery head of hair bobbed in and out of the water. Plumes of steam rose from the surface; mingling with the slightly chilly air only to be snatched away by the breeze. Rays of sunlight filtering through the palm trees reflected back off the sand at the bottom; giving it an ethereal, nearly luminescent atmosphere. In the sky, at a height too vast for him to discern, a mountain hawk gave a clear, shrill cry that echoed off the rock face of the falls to his back. Genesis had mentioned going there at some point, but there was no rush. Right now, they were both content to take advantage of the hot spring and its facilities.

Arriving perhaps a three days before, Sephiroth had vague memories of their initial departure. Exhausted, hungry and somewhat incognizant, his recollections of the trip were hazy at best. Hojo had been more than thorough. Reciting the rules wasn’t enough for him, and in the end, he’d been confined for an indefinite amount of time. Three times a day he was brought back to the surgical floor to repeat the process, until everything he’d memorized was simply a slurried, panicked blur as shock after shock traveled through his system. Forced suggestion wasn’t new to him; he’d been subject to it prior to his initiation into the SOLDIER program. It was what had made his first few years in service so successful; his ability to blindly push through pain or sleeplessness was borne from an ingrained, automatic urge to finish what he’d been told to do.

He was doing alright.

To say that he was _fantastic_ would have been a gross exaggeration. For the first time in his life, the General was accosted by horrific nightmares, most of them involving him strangling Genesis; watching the life drain out of those sapphire eyes as his hands refused to let go. He was relieved by the fact that he didn’t wake up screaming, though he’d come close to it a few times. Vaulting upwards in the floor-level, goosefeather bed he’d been forced to bite back the cry that threatened to burst from his throat. He was loathe to tell the subject of his dreams about them, he didn’t want to cause more damage than he already had. It was only a matter of time before they were called back or retrieved, and there was enough dissension between them already.

He regretted his actions in solitary, to a point that he couldn’t really describe. Genesis had insisted that he wasn’t to blame, that the ‘torture’ he’d been subjected to had left him disoriented and frightened. Sephiroth hadn’t had the heart to tell him that that was the bare minimum of torture, that Hojo could have done ten times worse and he’d have survived. Pain was ingrained in his psyche, branded into it from his youth, escaping it was temporary. As long as he ‘behaved’ everything went as per normal, but the consequences for error had always been higher for him and always would be.

Shifting, Sephiroth let his foot drop into the water...allowing the soft thrill that ran through his body at its obvious warmth. He was...avoidant. Since their arrival, the Commander had tried to be intimate with him several times, but he was reluctant. He was afraid of what closeness would make him do, of losing control. Conditioning often had side effects that remained hidden until they were triggered, and he was reluctant to test his boundaries until he knew he was free from it. That wasn’t to say that the process had had no lasting effects; other than the nightmares, he was occasionally accosted with frantic, racing thoughts pertaining to different aspects of regulatory dogma. Logically, he knew it was from copious electroshock therapy coupled with recitation, but that didn’t make it any easier to get rid of. He was working through it, however, and he knew that the rest would come with time. There was an abrupt cease in splashing noises and the silver-haired First looked up to see his second-in-command treading water, watching him intently.

He knew Genesis was worried about him.

Realistically, he had every right to be, so he refrained from rebuking him about it. They’d spoken very little, apart from pleasantries, but the younger man knew that the time for that was coming to an end. The Commander was patient when he wanted to be, but there would come a point when he pushed him for more. Sephiroth wasn’t quite sure if he was dreading or anticipating that moment. He’d spent the first day in Mideel lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. The hot springs came with the added bonus of lodgings at a modest price, and the two of them split the cost between them. The owners were an elderly couple, a serene, patient sort of pair that seemed to enjoy catering to their guests.

The splashing resumed and he closed his eyes.

Their accommodations were rustic but appreciable, with shōji walls crisscrossed with dark-lacquered bamboo lattice and tatami flooring. Three rooms; bedroom, bathroom, and living area with a magnificent view of the springs. They took their meals with the owners, who went to painstaking trouble to prepare each dish. Surprisingly, their daily dinner companions didn’t take much interest in their careers or why they were there. Instead, they spoke of simple things…idle pleasantries that were easy to answer and easier to fall asleep on at night. If one or both of them was less than conversant they didn’t complain; seeming to understand.

It took sheer force of will for Sephiroth to drag himself out of bed on the second day. He was tired, but he acknowledged that he couldn’t languish around forever, and there were things he wanted to see. He and Genesis took a hike somewhere nameless; somewhere where the forest seemed to swallow them up until everything was forgotten. Even with the silence between them there was a sense of shared contentment, of quiet appreciation that didn’t particularly need words to be tangible. Upon returning, Genesis had left him to stare into the endless black void that was his memories to swim in the hot spring. Despite all of their proclivities, each of them needed space from the other. There wasn’t any desperate sense of need for acknowledgement, the awareness was simply there.

On the third day-the current day-the General had gotten up early and taken Masamune with him. Upon finding a clearing well away from civilization, he had drawn his sword and gone through twenty-eight positions before realizing it was well after midday. It took a decent amount of humility to acknowledge that he was was somewhat rusty. ‘Rusty’ for him was-of course-nowhere near rusty for say, a high ranking Second. That didn’t, however, help with his current state of mind. Disgusted, he’d returned to the onsen, feeling more than a little inadequate. When he reached the flagstone path leading up to the entrance, it was to find Genesis sitting next to the doors looking somewhat tired and a little bit more frantic. Upon seeing him, the redhead’s face had morphed into an expression of anger. For a moment, the green-eyed soldier was sure he was about to get what had been coming to him for several days. Then, the Commander stood and went back inside without a word.

It took him perhaps an hour to realize what was wrong.

Sephiroth had left without telling anyone, with his sword, after failing to provide much more than basic conversation for the past seventy two hours. There were a limited number of things Genesis could have assumed with that information. Upon the revelation of such a fact, he immediately felt guilty, but his second-in-command was nowhere to be found. Which was what had led him here, sitting on smooth, weather-worn rock in a bathrobe that was a little too silky for his liking. The Commander had yet to verbally acknowledge him, and he wasn't going to push it, he at least owed him that.

The discord of parted water grew nearer and Sephiroth furrowed his brows, keeping his eyes shut until a wet finger grasped his ankles before letting go. Opening weary lids, the silver-haired soldier watched as Genesis pulled himself up onto the rocks next to him, drawing his knees up to his chest and staring contemplatively at him. That head of fiery hair caught the sunlight as it was tilted to rest on pale arms; droplets of water clinging to scarlet lashes as the older man exhaled in a rush.

“I'm sorry.” Sephiroth said quietly.

It seemed as if the redhead hadn’t heard him, because nothing in his features changed. The pale skin was flushed from the warmth of the onsen, contrasting with the sharp azure eyes that were staring at him like they both had all the time in the world. It took probably a minute before the corners of those lips twitched with unspoken words, and Sephiroth steeled himself for whatever his fellow First was going to throw at him.

Vaguely an image flashed before his eyes; of soldiers standing by as he walked in the corridors of 49th floor, saluting him, _welcoming him back?_ It was such an odd thing; making him wonder if it was real? A memory he had somehow forgotten due to the shocks that had been coursing through his body?

“Don’t you like it here?” Genesis’ voice jarred him out of his reverie. The redhead was frowning, a mixture of pain and sadness ghosting across his face that tugged down the corners of his lips. Raising a silver brow, the silver-haired First took a moment to consider the older man's query.

“I do.” He said quietly. “Thank you for giving me time to... collect myself.” He paused and cleared his throat. “I'm...still trying to sort it out.” Raising a hand to his head, he extended his forefinger to his temple, tapping it indicatively. “Here. Some days are easier than others, that's just how it works.”

Looking out over the spring, he watched as a duck prepared to land on its surface before taking note of the heat and apparently thinking better of it. A light breeze gave forth to a rush of temperate air that whispered through the palm fronds; carrying with it a slightly salty scent from the nearby ocean. Far away, he could hear the cries of a flock of seagulls winging towards the shoreline. To the left, hidden from view by a towering thicket of interlocking bamboo, was a worn cart path. It was taken by the local farmers in the morning and evening. Soon, he knew, they would return from the fields with whatever spoils the day had deigned to provide them with. When Genesis was still silent he smiled affectionately, leaning forward and reaching out to push the fringe of soaking wet hair from azure eyes. The aeonian nose beneath them scrunched somewhat at his ministrations.

“If it helps, I'm happier to be here with you.” He remarked. “Though I imagine you're surprised to hear it.”

Letting his hand drop, he looked away again, eyeing the tall, fluffy clouds marching in from the coast. Like towering ivory pillars, they pre-heralded the customary hour of afternoon rain. It would be perhaps another sixty minutes before it reached them, but it was still good to note. Stretching his legs out, the General let his lids drop... soaking in the feel of the sun beating down on his body through the layer of silk that encompassed it. You hardly ever saw the sun in Midgar; the pollution was too virulent, the refuse from the reactors too heavy. If he were perfectly honest with himself, Sephiroth didn't think he'd ever felt the sun during a purely leisurely moment. Some small part of him whispered that this was probably uncommon. When his companion was silent still, he spoke again.

“I haven't heard anything, have you?” He gestured at the cellular device in his lap. When Genesis gave him a look that said _‘Really?’_ , he huffed impatiently and lay back. “That's not accounting for the already-poor service.” He mumbled.

The redhead mumbled something under his breath before taking up his towel from where it rested on the smooth -if a little damp- stones that circled the spring. His blue eyes were glued to the main building where the showering cubicles were, along with the shelves and handwoven baskets where they had put their clothes. From the looks of it, his companion was angry, because it was the fourth time his fingers were trying to fasten the fabric around his waist.

Sephiroth didn’t know what to do; and didn’t know what he had done for the indignation to return to the older man’s face. He had already apologized for leaving without informing him; but it seemed that hadn’t sufficed to quell the man’s temper.

Throwing him a withering look over his shoulder, Genesis stomped back inside. Sephiroth sighed. For a moment, he was thankful that they weren’t going to have an argument where everyone could hear them. Briefly, he thought, that probably it wouldn’t also be a good idea to do it back at the place they were staying either. Standing up on his feet, he looked around the place one last time, imagining for an infinitesimal moment that he had seen a head of unruly tresses on the water’s surface, before it disappeared in front of his eyes. It brought back the hollow haunted feelings that filled his first couple of waking hours since they’d arrived. Because how was he going to fix this if they were constantly straddling this line between tension and acceptance? How were _they_ going to find a balance when their rapport continuously balanced on the edge of a knife?

With an air of sincere dread, Sephiroth came to the terrifying conclusion that he was going to have to be stern with Genesis. Calm, collective conversation wasn't going to get a reaction out of him at this point. Of course, being 'stern’ with the redhead was a lot like kindly asking an unpinned grenade not to explode. Turning towards the showers, the General took one step, another, and then stopped. He growled and gritted his teeth This should _not_ be this hard. He and the redhead used to raze the VR room to pieces with their battles, why was he so reticent now? Was it because he'd not taken the part of the aggressor in such a long time? Had he _mellowed out_ somehow?! Blinking, he was somewhat indignant at the realization that he'd-essentially-gone soft. Because...Genesis.

Absolutely not.

The showers were filled with steam by the time he arrived, but it was easy enough to discern where it was coming from. The redhead couldn't have failed to hear him enter, but he'd evidently decided not to acknowledge him. Fine. If he wanted to be angry, he was going to be angry right back. Briefly, in its agitated state, his mind began the dull recitation of Statute 23 line 64, but he shook it away. Doing his best not to focus on the glorious naked backside presented to him, Sephiroth opened his mouth.

“You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were afraid.” He said flatly. He watched as the previously graceful slope of an elegant back went rigid. “‘At what?’, I wondered.” He mused, as if talking to himself. The tips of those familiar ears were turning red. “But then I realized, it's not fear at all.” Letting his voice harden, he continued.

“You're _angry_ at me for getting electrocuted, partially brainwashed, and put in a cell.” He took a deep breath. “You're angry with me for taking time to collect myself, alone. And most of all, you're angry with me for what you perceive as a lack of trust, when really, it's just who I am.” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure you know what you’ve signed up for, Commander? Because I don't think you do.”

A deep, rumbling roll of thunder reverberated over their heads at the same time that Genesis’ palm slammed into the button that activated the shower, shutting it off.

The tile cracked.

Offhandedly, Sephiroth acknowledged that this was a lot like throwing himself on top of an active landmine. A landmine with particularly fond feelings towards fire. Slowly, the redhead turned his head, revealing the blazing, ominous sapphire of a mako-infused iris over one shoulder. It was time to make his exit.

“I'll be outside.” He added, striding towards the door. “Once you've decided what you want, that is.”

Throwing a raised brow over his shoulder, he slipped out into the rain and under a complimentary pagoda a few feet away, taking his basket of clothes as he did so. Hastily pulling on a pair of black sweatpants, he kept his robe and sat down, and then he waited.

It probably took less than five minutes till the redhead stormed out, wearing only a pair of khaki cargo shorts that got drenched in the few moments that it took for him to close the distance between them. Sephiroth stood up only to be thrown back, caught off guard, his back hitting the stone wall at the base of the pagoda. He expected those hands to yank him by the collar of his robe, but the older man stood there, soaking under the rain, and looking positively about to explode.

“You! Insufferable bastard!” Genesis spat venomously, his blazing eyes narrowing. A bright flash cut through the clouds with a jagged sword, bringing out facets of the redhead’s face with contrasting colors, soon followed by a thunderous roar that momentarily deafened him. “What do you think you know about me, huh?! You think you know it all?” If anyone had stayed outside under the heavy downpour, they must have fled back inside when his fellow First yelled at him.

“I’d been looking for you for five days. FIVE DAYS! Asking _anyone! everyone!_ who could have known where you were, only for _that_ FUCKING PSYCHO to tell me that they had shipped you somewhere else.” It seemed that with every passing syllable, Genesis’ voice reached a new high on the musical spectrum. Sephiroth wondered for a brief moment if the water running down that pale face might actually evaporate from how infuriated the older man was, before the latter continued with his tirade. “I was starting a riot to make them bring you _back_!”

The tiniest hint of a sneer was tugging on those lips, and Sephiroth was about to open his mouth when Genesis beat him to it, shaking his head. “I don’t need your apologies. Your kind words and gestures when they mean nothing to you.” It seemed that the Commander was about to continue when he bit his lip, apparently thinking better of it before closing his eyes and looking away.

Against his will, Sephiroth felt a thrill of mirth bubble up in his gut. Because _this_ was what he was looking for, this passion, this fire. Not the long, sullen and minimalist silences that had hung between them since his confession. This was the Genesis he knew, this was the Genesis he fell in love with. And while he knew it was possibly the worst way he could have drawn it out of him, it was still worth it; to get it out there in open, to understand what the redhead was thinking and feeling instead of the long, agonized stretches of silence between them. Bowing head, Sephiroth let his hair fall in front of his visage; his shoulders shaking as he tried to restrain the well of mirth that threatened to explode from his lips. Because as long as Genesis was angry, he knew that Genesis cared _._

It didn't work.

When he did laugh, the man before him looked at him like he'd gone-as the Commander would say- _‘completely batshit.’_ He was helpless to stop it once it started and it felt so, so good to simply let go, to succumb to an emotion that was something other than self-pity and guilt, because this was borne out of affection and recognition and love. And even if the redhead eventually picked his outraged jaw off the floor and chopped his head off at least he would die completely and utterly happy.

“Genesis” He wheezed. “You're _wonderful._ ”

The aforementioned man looked completely nonplussed. “Are you _laughing_ at me?” His voice was filled with the same confusion that had left his beautiful mouth parted and his blue blue eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights. Sephiroth couldn’t help but laugh even harder, despite the alarms going off in his head that it’d probably be better if he stopped.

“Are You Fucking _Laughing_ at me Sephiroth?” Genesis stepped forward, his hands balled into fists beside his naked torso. The silver-haired man tried, for the life of him, to stop, but he simply couldn’t, his hand coming to press against his abdomen to stop the slight pain that accompanied his every peal of laughter.

“I HATE YOU! I Fucking _Do_!” Genesis yelled, throwing an accusing finger in his direction before storming toward their ikkodate, his damp auburn locks whipping around as he turned around halfway to shout “You? Love ME? BULLSHIT!”, before vanishing from his view.  

“I thought you weren't acknowledging that!” Sephiroth called after him.

When the redhead didn't return, his mirth slowly died down, until he was left as drained and empty as before. Strangely, he didn't feel guilty about it; not because he didn't know that Genesis was angry, but because it had at least been better than nothing. It might be their last _something,_ but he'd needed to know that he wasn't stringing this along on a sense of apathy. It wasn't doing them any good. He wasn't self-serving, if he had been, he'd have blamed the whole Wutai debacle on the Commander and gotten off scot free. Leaning forward, thumbing the flowering bruise at his back, the silver-haired soldier closed his eyes. Maybe this was closure, maybe this was what he'd needed to accept that he couldn't keep chasing an illusion of freedom when it was only a matter of time before it got snatched away from him.

Far away, next to the springs, his phone began to ring but he ignored it in favor of getting up to return to the residential section of the hot springs; shrugging out of his robe and pulling on a long-sleeved shirt as he went. The hallways were eerily quiet, which wasn’t so unusual; it wasn’t the busy season. What _was_ unusual-but not unsurprising-was the sound of furious shuffling coming from their rented room. Sliding back the paper doorway, the green-eyed First was greeted with the sight of the redhead practically buried in his rucksack, apparently desperately searching for something. The aforementioned bag had evidently exploded all over the bed, as the Commander’s belongings were scattered haphazardly across the comforter. Genesis was-by all appearances-still absolutely livid. The glare he leveled the younger man’s way confirmed his suspicions.

The silver-haired soldier dithered for a moment, unsure of whether or not this was the best time to continue their conversation. It was-after all-not exactly like he’d thoroughly planned this out; and he wasn’t exactly sorry enough to beg for forgiveness. Quite the opposite, really, he was thoroughly _tired_ of chasing after Genesis in order to apologize, to grovel, to simply understand him to a degree that was comprehensive. He was-effectively-emotionally drained, and a part of him wasn’t exactly sure if this was worth it. Stupid, really, because no human being had ever impressed him as much as the individual before him. No, he wasn’t sure it was worth it because he was frightened of the fact that the Commander would never lower his walls...would never let him in in the way he wanted him to.

He needed to make peace with that, or he needed to walk away.

Closing his eyes as the music of the redhead’s curses washed over him, Sephiroth considered the options before him. He’d laid out his conditions for their relationship at the start, and it would neither be logical nor honorable for him to amend them in order to get his way. Moreover, he wasn’t willing to force Genesis into temperance by sheer order alone. No, he needed to accept that the redhead was possibly never going to reciprocate love with love. And to that effect, he needed to decide if the want that constantly seemed to encompass him was strong enough that it was a _need._ Exhaling, the green-eyed soldier decided that no, it wasn’t. And that yes, he could accept them as they were, as long as he didn’t concentrate on the intricacies of it, as long as he didn’t look too deeply into anything the older man did and interpret it as something that it wasn’t.

There was a rustle of plastic as Genesis found what he was looking for-which was a pack of cigarettes, apparently-and ripped the cellophane wrapping off of it as if it had done him a grievous wrong. It was now or not at all.

“I’m not sorry.” He said calmly. He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender when the redhead looked like he was going to eviscerate him. “Not because what I said or did wasn’t wrong.” He continued. “It was wrong. But because that was the reaction I was looking for.” When his second-in-command still looked thunderous, he sighed. “You and I both know that asking you a direct question doesn’t get me anywhere, I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. You’re strong, you defend what you believe in, and you don’t feel the need to explain yourself because you don’t owe anyone that.” He sobered further. “But neither do I, and I told you at the beginning of this, that I expected you not to ask me anything that you couldn’t give me in return.” He shook his head.

“It’s my fault.” He acceded. “In a way, because I _let_ you get away with it, and then I let you get away with it again, and again. I got comfortable taking a backseat. And that didn’t just dishonor me, it dishonored you.” Moving forward, he took the hand that was inching towards what he assumed was a lighter in the older man’s pocket. “I love you” he said calmly. “That’s not going to change, but what _is_ going to change is what I expect of you.” When Genesis looked confused he smiled, a little sadly. “I did the same thing you did.” He murmured. “I told you how I felt and then I just...I just _expected_ you to reciprocate. That’s not fair, it’s less fair than you expecting me to constantly give, because you can’t give something you don’t have.” Slowly, he raised his hands to cup familiar cheeks. “Genesis, I’m sorry. I’m not sorry for this, but I’m sorry for asking for something that wasn’t in your heart.” He swallowed. “If you want to end this, I understand, and I accept it.”

Genesis freed himself from his hands, turning his back on him as he sauntered to the window. The almost continuous pitter-patter of large raindrops hitting wood, greenery and ground alike filled the silence around them as long fingers pushed the shōji open, soon followed by the snap of the redhead’s lighter. From where he stood, Sephiroth could almost see the Commander’s profile; see as those fingers trembled slightly as he brought the cigarette to those lips, as his chest expanded with his deep inhale. The silver-haired man wondered for a brief moment if whatever they had between them was finally over when the older man finally decided to break the silence.

“You were right.” There was a short pause, Genesis lowering his head either to look down the window or at the floor where he stood. “I am afraid… I’m afraid because I haven’t loved anyone for a really really long time… I haven’t really wanted to be loved since my parents shut the doors to their hearts right in my face, over and over and over again…” Holding the cigarette filter between his middle finger and thumb, the redhead flicked the ashes over the windowsill with his forefinger before continuing. “It all changed when Angeal came along. He was so fucking _kind_ and _nice_ and _loyal_ that he just gave and gave until he had none.” The way Genesis was talking about their mutual friend would have probably made anyone else think he was actually insulting the raven-haired First, but Sephiroth knew better. “And I just took it, everything from him. Everything. Without giving back. I don’t want to do the same to you. You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve...” Those lips curled down into a sneer before Genesis turned away, his back facing him as he leaned his elbows against the edge of the wooden frame. “ _...me._ ” The word dripped with so much hate, so much contempt that it surprised him.

“Now you see me for who I really am… _Genesis Rhapsodos..._ “ Genesis’ flaccid auburn locks disappeared as he hung his head, his voice low but still audible. “ _Pathetic…_ I don’t need your pity. You’re free to leave, just like everybody has… I know it’s nothing personal, I won’t hate you... So just go, leave me alone…”

Slowly, Sephiroth yet again stepped forward, keeping his tread heavy on the carpet so that the older man could hear his approach. The redhead remained...tense and yet somehow resigned, refusing to look at him, even when he was directly behind him. Leaning forward, the silver-haired First let his head drop down, until his forehead was nestled at the base of Genesis’ neck. Closing his eyes for what felt like the thousandth time that day, he breathed out shakily.

“I'm not your parents.” He said in a low voice. “I know that doesn't change anything, but I... I've never cared about anything, _anyone_ easily.” Lifting his right arm, he let his hand slide forward until it cupped a tense elbow. “Hojo didn't teach me anything about affection, it wasn't needed, wasn't necessary. The only reason I learned anything about friendship was because of you and Hewley.” The man in front of him made as if to jerk away, but he tightened his hold just-somewhat. “ _Listen.”_ He murmured.

“You and I fought-still fight-but when we do... I feel...alive. Before you, I was a mechanism, a facet in an industry that didn't care whether I was empty or not, they just wanted me to carry out orders.” Sephiroth lifted his left hand and let it rest on the sharp jut of a somewhat wet hipbone. “You say you're worthless, but you taught me to look at people as something more than puppeteers. The last person to do that died, and I assumed it was because he was weak, because sympathy for those who had less than him made him susceptible...made him mortal. You're the furthest from weak I've ever met, but that doesn't make you unkind, it just makes you strong. And strength doesn't equate coldness, or so I've learned.”

He swallowed and let the hand resting at Genesis’ waist reach upward to card through strands of wet scarlet hair; lifting his head so he could bury it in the crimson locks just above his temple, descending somewhat so he could speak into the shell of a flushed ear, swaying slightly as he did so.

“With that in mind,” He murmured. “ _You_ are not your parents either. You're the furthest from them-by your description-that I've ever met. And you can talk about being a disappointment, but really, maybe you’re just so brilliant you can't see yourself clearly anymore.” When a scoff met this statement, he chuckled. “Laugh if you want, but it's true. There's nothing pathetic about being careful, that's wisdom, not weakness. And it makes up a part of you, so I'm going to love it just the same. You don't have to let go of yourself to acknowledge that you’re worthwhile, you just have to look at yourself differently.” The hand in endless crimson locks relinquished its position to delve downwards, to loop under a trembling arm until it splayed flat against Genesis’ chest. “So guard your heart.” Sephiroth breathed. “Just know that I'm guarding it with you, and I'm not going anywhere.”

They just stood there as the man in his arms contemplated his words for what seemed like an eternity, before a tentative hand covered his over Genesis’ heart, holding onto it as though for dear life. Another hand rose to tangle in his silvery mane, azure eyes seeking his as if the older man was seeing him for the first time in his life; bewilderment, adoration, affection, there were so many emotions reflected in them that it was dizzying.

“I don’t care if this is a dream…” Those somewhat moist lips brushed against his, Genesis’ breaths smelling of ash and smoke and destruction. “Just let me sleep forever…” For an infinitesimal moment Sephiroth wondered how destruction would taste like before Genesis’ lips closed around his, the hand covering his coming to rest at the small of his back pulling him closer and closer until they were inseparable, intertwined.

If Sephiroth could hear past the heavy breaths that mingled with his own, past the moan that fell from those kiss-swollen lips, he could hear the distant yet telltale sound of walls coming crashing down. If Sephiroth could look past the way that lithe body writhed against his fingertips like the plucked strings of a violin, the urgency with which his notes whispered in his ear to take him, to make him come undone; he could see that he’d already done that.

He could see that Genesis Rhapsodos was utterly, madly… _unconditionally_ in love with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The imagery that inspired us to portray Mideel in this chapter can be found on DeviantArt under the name "Mideel" by "jordangrimmer". Their art is absolutely breathtaking.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Genesis jolted awake. Lying in bed on his back, he tried to stay as motionless as he could, his azure eyes moving from the thick wooden beams that criss-crossed the ceiling to the man sleeping by his side.

He couldn’t remember what he’d seen in his dream, but a lingering sense of foreboding crawled slowly inside him to settle in the pit of his stomach. Dismissing it, the tiniest hint of a smirk played on his lips. The last three nights, the silver-haired man’s slumber had been riddled with nightmares. The redhead had woken up from sudden mumbles and minute yet jerky movements as the General struggled in his sleep. Genesis hadn’t known what to do, to try and wake him up or let it run its course. In the end he’d always opted for the latter, watching him with worried sleepy eyes as the throes died down enough for him to be overtaken by a light drowse.

His fingers twitched as he tried to keep them where they were, instead of tangling them in the molten silver that spanned everywhere, softly reflecting the faint moonlight that had slithered stealthily inside their room. Tonight it seemed, at least for the time being, that the younger man’s dreams were finally peaceful.

It was still dark, cicadas chirping outside the open window once in a while, before silence fell over the small town again in a heavy soothing blanket. Genesis could only guess that it was probably sometime between three or four. He imagined that there were still stars twinkling out there, unlike the cosmopolitan megapolis; the only thing the redhead had missed about his hometown since he’d joined SOLDIER.

Turning to look up at the nondescript ceiling, he suddenly remembered the text he’d received from his father. It had surprised him, no end. The senior Rhapsodos was going to come all the way to Mideel only to give him the paperwork Shinra had sent them to do? It was so bizarre that the redhead knew if he were to dwell on it, he’d ruin their vacation by overthinking and worrying about how to act, about what to say to his old man. He hadn’t received a call, a letter or anything for that matter from his father -or his mother- ever since he’d left Banora. For ten years… And while Genesis wanted to take full credit for it, to say that it’d been his choice that they’d become so estranged over the years he’d probably be the last one to know if his parents’ ever died, he wondered if the lack of communication on his parents’ behalf had actually been the final straw. It’d always made him think that he hadn’t been wanted; which was nothing new really. The feeling had always accompanied him; that either he hadn’t meant to be, or that he’d been adopted only for Mortimer Rhapsodos to have an heir.

Suddenly he was overwhelmed with a desire to get up and read the message again, probably for the tenth time that day to make sure he wasn’t making it up. His phone was nowhere within reach, and Genesis really didn’t want to wake the silver-haired man, if he hadn’t already. Without even realizing it, he found himself gazing at his companion.

Seeing those features so serene, everyone would doubt that this man was the same person whose blade sang of death every time he swung it in the battlefield, felling men on its path as though they were fountain grasses in a meadow. But Genesis knew him, well as much as the younger man had been willing to confide in him, and he still wanted him, all of him; with all his demons and nightmares, the river of blood that flowed behind him, everything. Because despite all their differences, the older man was starting to see glimpses of how they were somehow also similar.

Remembering the words Sephiroth had whispered in his ear only hours ago, remembering how his skin burnt everywhere those calloused fingertips caressed, the most strange feeling bloomed inside him, swelling in his chest more and more until he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t find his voice as he opened his mouth to whisper the younger man’s name softly. Instead, he reached forward, tentatively brushing a stray silver lock away and behind Sephiroth’s ear with just the tip of his fingers. A smile pulled on his lips as he saw the man stir, a tiny frown creasing his brow. Mumbling something unintelligible, the subject of his rumination opened bleary green eyes; somehow managing to look ravishing despite the fact that he was barely conscious.

“Gen’sis.” He garbled. Raising his head slightly, he stared at the aquamarine letters on the alarm clock before squinting, and then looking as if the device had done something terrible to him. Apparently unable to focus enough to see anything. Sephiroth groaned and flopped back onto the pillows, silver lashes descending once again. “Wh'time izzit?”

Smiling fondly, the redhead traced the General's ear again, and then again...over and over until the younger man cracked open one lid and gave him a grumpy look. This was quickly destroyed by the way the green-eyed soldier's lip twitched; just the slightest bit, at the corner closest to him. Exhaling, Genesis’ companion rolled onto his back and lifted one arm to cover his eyes; stretching as he did so. An expansive yawn followed this course of action, as he shuffled back onto his side.

“Sleep.” He grumbled. “It's good for you.” When the redhead continued his ministrations, he huffed and smiled, raising a silver brow. “Is everything alright?”

Genesis couldn’t help as his smile turned into a full-fledged mischievous grin that was almost splitting his face in half. Untangling himself from the sheets as best and as quickly as he could, he pushed Sephiroth onto his back before coming up on top of him. The redhead’s fingers encircled the silver-haired man’s wrists, pushing them into the pillow on either side of his face.

Slowly and playfully swaying his hips, his blue eyes fluttered closed as he leaned his forehead against the younger man’s, sighing contently. “I was thinking…” Genesis whispered, his lips only a breath away from Sephiroth’s, teasingly brushing against them only to pull away as the General tried to ensnare him in a kiss. Chuckling, he trailed barely there feather-light kisses down toward the apex where an angular jaw met a strong neck, pressing himself flush against the chiseled torso beneath him.

The green-eyed soldier ‘hmm?’ed, muscles flexing underneath his fingers as he tried to free his wrists. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Genesis knew that he’d wanted to tell him something, but as much as he tried, the slippery thread of thought slipped through his fingertips. His every thought had tuned to his senses, his body lapping against the shore of Sephiroth’s physicality as pleasure and arousal washed over him.

A hot shaky breath passed through his parted lips to ghost across the silver-haired man’s ear. He shivered in response but the redhead could sense that there was still something amiss. The younger man was stiff, uncertain. He reciprocated hesitantly, carefully; as if he was afraid of something terrible happening should he move too quickly. And really, Genesis did not have the patience for that at the moment. But he was equally cognizant of how flighty the silver-haired soldier could be, so he allowed for it, if only temporarily. When long, nimble fingers came up to angle his jaw, granting his companion deeper access to their kiss, he was relieved. Letting his tongue trace the plush seam of a familiar pair of lips, he allowed himself a small modicum of triumph when they parted to allow him entry.

Sephiroth had somewhat relaxed now, given himself to the movements that began at points of contact and then spread outwards; until the younger man was lifting upwards to chase his mouth every time he pulled away. Those long, clever fingers were less stiff now, more relaxed. Occasionally, the General still tugged against his ‘restraints’ but it was more playful rather than protestant. Abandoning his mouth, the green-eyed soldier dipped his head to follow the line of his jaw with an acquisitive tongue, straining harder at the redhead’s hands as his desire to touch became more and more apparent. When they pulled back in unison, his companion tilted his head and smirked.

“You seem to have me at a disadvantage.” He purred.

It was a gross exaggeration, and both of them knew it. If he’d really wanted to, Sephiroth could have easily thrown him across the room without getting even slightly winded. Theirs was a careful balance, borne of a deep vein of ingrained trust that came from years of experience. If there was anything that their time together had taught them, it was that temperance was not a singular thing but a shared thing.

Genesis’ expression mirrored Sephiroth’s, his eyes glinting playfully as he tightened his hold minutely. Lowering his hips, he felt the hardening line of the younger man’s cock through the thin sheets, making his smirk widen as he slowly, agonizingly rutted against him. “You have to try harder than that.” His voice was a seductive whisper, too low as if there were others in the room, and it was something that they shouldn’t be privy to.

Letting his eyes flutter closed, a moan escaped past parted lips. Sephiroth’s hands were flexing against his hold as if it had just become a little harder to play this game they were playing. Emerald eyes were watching him with a dark look as Genesis came back to, the younger man’s deep voice making him shiver slightly. “I have a better idea.”

And with that, their positions were reversed; Genesis yelped as his back hit the mattress, a short playful laugh erupting from him before being ensnared by the perfect bow of Sephiroth’s lips. A big strong hand held his wrists above his head, and the redhead couldn’t help but flex against his restraints disobediently, lifting his hips shamelessly, a wanton moan spilling between their already deepening kiss.

The grin he received in return for his rebellion was wicked, tinged with just the edge of their initial soft affection. With his free hand bracing him, Sephiroth returned the gesture the Commander had bestowed upon him minutes before; and he returned it tenfold. Nudging a knee between the older man's legs, he settled between his thighs; grinding downwards until the redhead broke the kiss so he could throw his head backwards to let out a ragged breath that was just on the edge of a gasp. When he did, a hot mouth descended upon his throat; from zenith to nadir...before latching onto his pulse-point and sucking distractedly.

Genesis shuddered, blinked at suddenly hazy roof beams as his body responded automatically, thrusting upwards in an amalgamation of instinctive forward motion. His toes curled in the sheets, digging into the mattress as another slow, rolling advance had euphoria rolling from the base of his spine until it curled in his belly and upwards still...till it curled around the tip of his tongue and issued forth over his lips like a saccharine wave.

When he'd finally collected himself enough to lift his head again, he was greeted with the sight of blazing green eyes; observing him fascinatedly, patiently, with all the calm collectiveness of the hunter stalking its prey. Save for the splash of color encompassing normally pale cheeks and the evident, impressive erection pressing against his own, it would have been hard to tell if Sephiroth was aroused or simply flushed from spending time outside on a particularly brisk day. Immediately, it became Genesis’ goal to drive him absolutely crazy. As if reading his mind, a silver brow was arched in challenge.

“That was a good idea.” The younger man murmured, bending his neck until silver hair skimmed the line of the Commander's jaw. “Your turn.” He cocked his head, emerald eyes traveling somewhat lazily to the redhead's ensnared hands. “Oh.” He continued, as if just realizing it. “I forgot, you're a bit _tied up_ aren't you?”

Genesis growled lowly, his muscles flexing against Sephiroth’s hold to no avail as he tried toeing off the sheets separating them. When heated skin met heated skin, he was rewarded with a self-satisfied smirk from those cruel beautiful lips that hovered above his; just low enough to brush teasingly as the redhead struggled. A flustered breath escaped him as he lifted his hips only for the green-eyed soldier to draw back. With his legs freed, the older man curled one around the General’s waist while hooking another under the bed as he lifted his hips yet again. A deep velvety chuckle was the answer to his endeavors, a playfulness that was so rare flashing in those viridescent eyes.

Genesis grinned devilishly, raising an auburn eyebrow as he pulled them off over the edge of the bed. The tatami creaked under the impact as Sephiroth’s back hit the floor, and while the silver-haired man was catching his breath, the scarlet-haired soldier descended on him, all hot breaths, feverish lips and tantalizing touches. Going lower and lower still, he left a trail of open mouthed kisses on the insides of the younger man’s muscular thighs.

Azure eyes were following the tiniest movement of the breathless man below him, his mouth lingering on the map of Sephiroth’s body as it started to unravel underneath his affection. A wave of heat was expanding throughout his body, unstoppable, and with that he buried his face between those firm gluteal muscles, barely containing his smirk as the silver-haired man inhaled sharply, his hips jerking upwards in Genesis’ hold.

“Well that's not fair-” was the distracted mutter.

Whatever he'd been meaning to say afterwards was cut off as the redhead lashed out with his tongue. Strangled, constricted at the apex of a complaint, the silver-haired man let out a groan that was very quickly stifled as he clapped an unsteady hand over his mouth. And no, that was not going to work. Never drifting from his focus, Genesis reached up to blindly flail for the elbow attached to the offending palm. Yanking it away, he delved inward simultaneously; it took every facet of his being not to grin as Sephiroth made a sound that was halfway between a yelp and a moan. Because apparently, the General had not been pleasured _this_ particular way before.

And now he had the upper hand.

Slowly, dedicatedly, he took his ‘superior’ apart from the inside out. Slow, tantalizing circles with a rough inward jab that had those thighs constricting around his head like a vice. Long and languorous and deep and the hand that had covered that beautiful mouth had sunk into his hair as the green-eyed soldier arched into it, the fingers of the other hand digging into the floor. And it was magnificent really, because while Sephiroth obviously wanted to hold back, his reticence showed him exactly how much he liked this; and wasn't that a rush? Levering himself upwards somewhat, Genesis reached forward to take the silver-haired First in hand; stroking downwards with swift, purposeful motions until the younger man said something that sounded like his name and an explicative rolled up into one.

“Steady.” He muttered distractedly as the grip in his hair became somewhat painful in its intensity.

The comment seemed rather lost to the General at first, but he then relented, gentling his hold. The flush that had previously dusted his cheeks was spreading to his ears; all pink and glossy green eyes and a kind of incredulous distraction. Sephiroth’s back bowed as he rocked into him, head falling backwards to rock listlessly into the tatami. And there was precome beading down the redhead's hand to intermingle with his fingers...he wasn't quite _there_ yet. But with the way those soft sighs were turning into low, almost indiscernible moans, it was only a matter of time. Then the green-eyed soldier stiffened, attempted to extricate himself only to-apparently-turn into what amounted to an uncoordinated jellyfish.

“Gen-” He said ragged. “Can't. Stop-going to-!”

His lips stretched into a smile as the General tensed with each brush of his thumb, his strokes quickening until the younger First became as taut as a bow; coming undone in his hands. Drawing back, affectionate azure eyes were never leaving the silver-haired man from the moment those lips parted in a voiceless breathless groan up until crescents of emerald emerged from under those mile-long lashes.

Extricating his fingers, he lowered his head, parting his lips slowly, letting a breath dance across the man’s heated skin before taking his cock inside his mouth. Sephiroth winced slightly, never breaking eye contact even as a clever tongue curled around his oversensitive flesh before letting go. With his -now free- hand curled around his own aching erection, one-by-one, Genesis enveloped his slick digits in his mouth, closing his eyes as he sucked on them in rhythm, his body rising and falling with each wave of pleasure that rocked him. A moan got lost somewhere between his heavy breaths before fingers encircled the redhead’s wrist, pulling his hand away to get intertwined with his now moist digits. A searing kiss stole his breath away just as Sephiroth’s other hand batted his away, only to wrap around his length, stroking firmly.

“Seph…” Genesis breathed, breaking the kiss minutely before closing his mouth around the perfect familiar bow of the younger man’s lips. His precum slicked fingers trailed down his own lower back and lower still between the cleft of his own ass and nudging the tight ring of muscle and just a little further, and oh… Reflexively his other hand reached for a well-built shoulder as Sephiroth pulled him onto his lap, with his free hand kneading his glutes as he brought the redhead closer and closer to the brink of insanity.

“Seph…” Like a hymn, like a mantra, the silver-haired soldier’s name fell from his parted lips, his toes curling, his back arching as hot open-mouthed kisses trailed down his exposed throat, continuing their trek to his shoulders where pearl white teeth bit down gently. Silver spilled through his fingertips like silk as he tugged in warning; going over the edge, euphoria washed over him wave after wave, the whole world narrowing down to Sephiroth’s embrace; to how his skin burned where the younger man’s fingertips connected with his physicality, holding onto him, anchoring him so he wouldn’t fade away.

When he finally made it back to Gaia, he was slumped over the General's shoulder, his fingers buried in that fall of silver hair in a grip that was probably a little bit painful. The General's left hand was cupping the back of his head, thumb stroking idly at the base of his neck. Gathering himself, the redhead pulled away slightly so he could look into soft emerald eyes. The younger man's expression was open, carefully affectionate and observant. Tilting his head, his fellow First captured his lips. It was at once gratuitous yet deeply loving. Still shuddering with aftershocks, Genesis returned it with equal feeling.

“I love you.”

Strangely, the redhead didn't feel the need to turn tail and run upon hearing it anymore. He didn't feel the need to respond to it either, which was somewhat of a relief. When they had sufficiently detached themselves again, the green-eyed soldier picked him up and-without much ceremony-dumped him back onto the bed. The frame shuddered somewhat as the Commander made an indignant, protestant sound that quickly devolved into a sigh of bliss as the softness of the sheets encompassed him. Sephiroth remained standing for a minute, disappearing into the bathroom before returning with a warm, wet washcloth. When they were both sufficiently clean, he threw it into the wash basket by the door. Snuggling into the pillows, Genesis made a soft sound of contentment as he was tugged into the warmth of long, lithe arms. A kiss was bestowed on his temple and he smiled as the sound of the falls created a backdrop to the serene atmosphere. Tumbling over weathered rock, the water was a soothing, tumultuous melody brought to them by the wind. The falls...  Wait. Something wasn't right. _The falls._

Blue eyes snapped open.

Mycterias were dancing down below, circling one another before landing on more tranquil portions of the vast pool that expanded across the lush valley, pouring into a series of fast moving currents further downhill. All around him lush foliage expanded as far as eyes could see. A cool breeze brought with it the mist and tiny water droplets that had drifted apart from the roaring waterfall, only to catch and refract the brilliant golden rays into an almost ethereal L’arc en ciel.

Genesis nearly startled himself over the edge, his heart thrumming hard against his chest as he pulled himself back at the last minute, his eyes wide with disbelief. If he hadn’t been at least a continent away from Midgar, he would’ve thought that the events of the previous days were all but a VR simulation. Frantically looking around, he tried to at least regain a miniscule shred of neutrality in his features, but failed rather miserably, as his silver-haired companion was nowhere to be seen.

Hadn’t he been lying in a bed, enveloped by strong arms as he was being lulled back to sleep?

Pivoting on his heel, he dashed toward the treeline, his heart plummeting with each quick step against the light soil and undergrowth, nearly tripping over a root as tendrils of dread twined around his heart, constricting like a vice as he realized he had no idea, no recollection of how he’d gotten there.

Turning around over and over, nothing about the otherwise heavenly scene before his eyes was familiar to him. Genesis was panicking, over something that must have been so harmless, especially to a First Class Soldier. He knew the drills, he knew how to get himself out of this situation, but in the face of the bottomless void in his memory, which had never failed him before, all his training was all but forgotten. Squeezing azure eyes shut as he buried his face in his hands, he tried his damnedest to find an answer, but to no avail. All he could come up with, without no concrete proof, was that he’d probably come here with Sephiroth. So where the hell was _he_?

Something rustled in a nearby bush, and Genesis bolted upright, the leather of his khaki fingerless gloves creaking as he balled his hands into fists, assuming a defensive stance. Just as he was trying to control his ragged breathing, to school his features into some semblance of determined neutrality, the branches were pulled aside only to reveal a one and only silver-haired General.

He wasn’t sure if telling Sephiroth about this would do them any good, and he really didn’t know what, how and why he’d ended up here, so he waited for the younger man to speak first, hoping against hope not to have done something stupid or awkward enough for the green-eyed soldier to have noticed that Genesis had lost time.

Watching as the General stepped out of the undergrowth, the redhead schooled his features further into neutrality; allowing what he hoped was a placid expression to settle across his face. Glancing appreciatively at the falls, the younger man paused for a moment to take in the view before striding over to him. He wore a simple pair of khaki cargo pants, complimented by a grey t-shirt and a grey hiking vest, a backpack slung over his shoulder. Assumably, they’d packed something to eat, because Genesis was starving. His fellow First gave him a hairy look before kneeling partially to tug at a sock that had assumably fallen down over his boots.

“...Alright?”

This was said calmly, without the slightest air of inflection, and Genesis let himself relax somewhat. Assumably, the silver-haired man had fallen behind for whatever reason. He regretted not being able to remember the hike to their destination, he was sure that it was beautiful. The forest behind them was well-reputed for its easy-to-follow but scenic paths. It was almost tragic that he had missed it. The green-eyed soldier was still looking expectantly at him, and he internally warred with himself. They didn’t need this. They had _just_ formed some semblance of continuity after their argument, and there was no point in making his companion worry about something that was unlikely to happen again.

“Genesis.” Sephiroth pressed, his brows furrowing together.

“Sorry.” He shook his head, simply stating what came quicker to his addled brain. “It’s just…” Genesis trailed off, looking down at the ground, noting how brown the soil was, how it would crumble between and through his fingertips, wondering if it was actually moist. _What?_

The redhead could almost feel as his mask of neutrality was fraying at the seams as he caught himself going off on tangents. His inability to come up with an explanation for his presumably really abnormal behavior fueling the trepidation pooling in the pit of his stomach. Because Sephiroth didn’t deserve this, they didn’t deserve this, constantly hovering over somewhere between heaven and hell. But he couldn’t, for the life of him, bring himself to ruin their vacation. Looking at the silver-haired man, Genesis could see worry edging its way across those gorgeous features, those brilliant brilliant green eyes…

Only Goddess knew how badly he wanted to tuck tail and run, hide himself under some boulder and stay there until Sephiroth just gave up on him… But then again, there was an almost magnetic pull, drawing him toward the General that he couldn’t resist, like a moth to a flame. Surprisingly, Genesis didn’t care if he actually burned to ashes.

Purposeful strides closed the distance between them as the scarlet-haired First cradled that pale face with his hands before kissing the green-eyed soldier like a starving man, devouring him, needy, heated, sloppy and messy. He just wanted to feel him, to breathe in the scent that was so uniquely Sephiroth’s.

Seemingly surprised, the younger man went still for a moment; apparently hesitant to give in when there was obviously something amiss. Then, slowly, he responded; lifting one hand, he let it card through scarlet locks. Relieved, the redhead gentled his advance, letting the kiss become soft and passive. The hand in his hair swept downwards to cup the base of his head, fingers dragging through fiery strands as Genesis’ companion responded ardently. Behind them, the falls were a vigorous ambience; water dashing downwards to unseen pools out of their line of sight. If it weren’t for his lack of memory, it would have made for a beautiful exchange suspended in time. Should Angeal have come with them, he’d at least have asked for a picture. As it was, the moment was suffused by an air of concealment, of uncertainty and a little bit of fear.

Drawing back, the older man kept his eyes lowered, swallowing self-consciously as his companion swung the backpack he’d brought over his shoulder before squatting to shuffle through it. He seemed-by all accounts-ignorant. There was the sound of paper rustling and the redhead fought to draw himself into the present, a present where Sephiroth was currently drawing two delicious-looking sandwiches out of the pack, along with a pair of water bottles. Genesis’ stomach growled thunderously and he scowled pointedly in the other direction when his fellow soldier grinned.

“It was a long hike.” the General commented, as if to soothe him. “But it’s worth it, don’t you think?” The Commander looked back in time to see the younger man jerk his head in the direction of the falls. “It’s beautiful.”

Making a small noise of assent, the blue-eyed soldier sank down next to the silver-haired First. Nodding as he was handed a sandwich, he peeled back the wax paper separating him from his greatly-needed lunch and took a bite, letting his gaze wander as he did. It truly was-as Sephiroth had said-beautiful. Truthfully, he’d been wanting to make his way up there the day they’d arrived, but he knew that his companion needed time to recover. This close to the edge, the falls seemed to almost launch themselves outwards into the air prior to descent; droplets of water catching the sun to cast multiple miniature rainbows that careened precariously before disappearing from sight. A massive river flanked them; splitting the semi-circle of trees behind them straight down the middle. It was-at once-awe inspiring and sobering.

“You’re quiet.” Sephiroth murmured, raising one of the water bottles to his lips.

Genesis’ hand paused half way in the movement as he’d been raising the delicious sandwich to take yet another bite. “My father is coming over tomorrow.” It wasn’t what had been on his head, well if his mind was still in its right place after the unpredicted turn of events. It wasn’t a lie. He was simply opting not to talk about the truth. The redhead didn’t like thinking about it but he was going to ask Hollander to find what was wrong with him when they went back.

“Shinra’s given him the paperwork they wanted us to do while Angeal’s in Wutai.” The Commander explained, grimacing at the thought of having to do paperwork while he could spend hours and hours on end hiking in nature, or immersed in hot springs. A grin stretched his lips as he turned to look at his companion. “You should take more vacations, you know. 300 days?” Genesis couldn’t stop the short laugh that escaped him, before continuing. “Hell, you can take a whole year off, and Shinra can’t really say anything to you.”

The General chuckled.

“In terms of paperwork, I can’t say I’m surprised, though it’ll be interesting to meet your father.” When the redhead made a gagging sound he grinned. “Maybe I should ask him for permission to court you?”

Genesis hit him.

“In all seriousness.” The silver-haired First continued, righting himself. “I’m surprised we haven’t been court-martialed and dragged back to HQ, so I’ll take what I can get.”

When the older man made a sound of assent through his sandwich, he smirked. In truth, Genesis wasn’t exactly looking forward to the ‘reunion.’ He fully expected his father to be worshipful of Sephiroth and completely negligent of him. Astonishingly, the thought didn’t make him jealous. Rather, the idea of his sire’s focus being on someone other than him was relieving. At least he wouldn’t have to pretend to be deaf when it came to all the insults. Adversely, he was somewhat concerned about having to restrain the man next to him once his father _did_ insult him. Because he doubted that the General was going to tolerate any of it. Sephiroth was notorious for being completely intolerant of shallow people, and while the head of the Rhapsodos family was certainly shallow, he was also powerful.

“If I took a year off I don’t think I’d come back.” The man in question commented. “I’d be so out of practice I might retire and leave it all to you and Hewley.” When Genesis scoffed he raised an eyebrow. “Well, technically, I’m overdue in terms of years of service. I’ve been active since I was ten.”

No matter how many times Sephiroth mentioned the fact that he had actually spent his late childhood slaving away at SOLDIER and later at Wutai war, instead of doing what children do, Genesis couldn’t help feeling overwhelmed by shock and disbelief. He and Angeal had just stood there, flabbergasted for about five minutes while the green-eyed First had watched them like he was going to burn down the bridge they had finally built between the three of them.

To think that Hojo, that Shinra could do something like that to a much younger, and probably more distant version of his companion made Genesis want to bristle with rage. It was so easy to forget Sephiroth’s age with how stoic and mature the silver-haired man had behaved, but the truth was still there. That they had given a child a sword and left him on his own to save his own neck against Wutain veterans much older than him.

Genesis could only shake his head in disbelief, trying to dispel those thoughts because there was simply no point dwelling on the past. They were here, now. A short chuckle passed his lips as he diverted the conversation to a light banter, wondering minutely that no matter how many times they evaded talking about it, it’d eventually come finding them later. “You? Getting rusty? The great General Sephiroth?” Twirling his free hand in the air as he bowed his head slightly as though to show respect, he couldn’t stop grinning. “And no less, retiring to let me and Angeal share the limelight? Hmph, I find it hard to believe.”

The younger man chuckled again.

“You never know.” He replied raising a conspiratorial eyebrow.

They both laughed and fell into a comfortable silence. Really, Genesis didn't know what he was so worried about. He'd gotten so little sleep since they'd left it was a miracle he hadn't passed out on the ground. Pushing the events of the morning to the far recesses of his mind, the redhead concentrated on the present. A present where Sephiroth was currently throwing bread into the river and watching what looked like an elongated yellow fish lunge up to catch it. The grin that split his face was entirely unintentional, and when the younger man looked at him questioningly he shook his head. Because he was fairly sure Sephiroth would stop if he told him he was adorable.

“Have you heard from Angeal?”

Genesis blinked, somewhat surprised that his fellow First had asked him. He'd always gotten the impression that the silver-haired man was somewhat lukewarm when it came to his childhood friend. Sephiroth had always seemed fond of Angeal, but kind of in the way you were fond of a well-baked slice of bread; appreciable but not particularly impressive. Adversely, the dark-haired First held the General in the highest esteem, and often asked after him if he hadn't seen him in a while. Crumbling the now-empty expanse of wax paper, the older man threw it in his pack.

The Commander shook his head negatively, staring at the empty space between his matching mountaineering boots. He had seen his raven-haired friend so little lately; he wondered if they had finally drifted apart with all the missions and everything that had been going on in their lives. His childhood friend’s time was mostly spent around his protege, Zack the puppy, now. Maybe, Angeal had finally found his calling; to pass whatever he knew to others, to teach, to guide as would a lighthouse in a sea.

Genesis didn’t know how to feel about that. Aside from Angeal and Sephiroth, he didn’t have any close friends whom he’d trust with his life. To think that one day, the raven-haired man would become a stranger to him was so foreign and unsettling; that Zack would be the one to take his place. It was unacceptable. He had to remedy that as soon as they went back, before it was too late.

“I know he’s in Wutai, keeping up the front. Last I saw him was in Goblin’s. Before _the call to riot!_ ” Genesis exclaimed theatrically, a smirk tugging on his lips.

He wondered how much Sephiroth remembered the events of those few days. The General had looked like he was completely out of it, so distant that at times Genesis wasn’t sure if it was some lifeless replica of the man who was going through his daily routines. From what he’d heard among soldiers, the silver-haired man had barely acknowledged the men welcoming his _return_ , walking past them like a ghost.

Thinking about it now, it was really interesting to witness how the army’s morale had boosted when the news of the green-eyed First’s comeback had circulated. Sephiroth was, after all, their General; the man they’d follow to hell and back if he asked them to, the man who fought alongside them, carrying his fair share of the burden that was war and the blood that’d never seemed to go away no matter how many times they washed their hands.

The scarlet-haired First wasn’t naive enough to believe that everyone loved Sephiroth, no. But he knew for a fact that every single person under the General’s command respected him; out of awe or fear, it didn’t matter. It was as though the man’s very presence commandeered such level of respect, even from his enemies. To think how some soldiers saw the demon of Wutai as a living god, made some strange feeling stab inside him like a sharp narrow knife before Genesis threw it away. That wasn’t a train of thought he was going to follow.

 _Here, now, together._ The redhead reminded himself. Reminded himself that Sephiroth saw him as an equal, that they were standing together, side by side; that he’d been privy to things that no other knew about the immaculate man now sitting beside him, enjoying the comfortable tranquility.

“Wutai.” The subject of his rumination said darkly. “If that wasn’t a fool’s errand if I ever saw one.”

The Commander looked at the younger man, surprised. He’d never heard his fellow First speak out against the Company’s aim before. To be entirely truthful, he’d always assumed that Sephiroth was one-hundred percent for whatever Shinra was focused on at the time. SOLDIER’s regime in Wutai was long and bloody. Neither side had ever really seen eye-to-eye, and Godo was adamant about the dangers of allowing a company to have so much power. By the time the redhead was aware of the full scope of Administrations endeavors, he was already enmired in the system and focused on rising through the ranks. He didn’t have time to stop and think about what they were doing really meant. Protocol didn’t exactly encourage free thinking, and while he was certainly not partial to being ‘leashed’, the thought had never crossed his mind before. Catching his curious expression, Sephiroth continued.

“The President puts up a good front.” He said blithely, watching the yellow fish dive in and out of the water, chasing something or other. When Genesis looked confused he waved an idle hand. “The reactor, it’s a good excuse to expand in order to garner control. That’s all it’s ever been; the more powerful the hold Shinra has over something, the less they have to be careful about what they’re doing.”

The older man made a soft, contemplative noise before staring out over the falls. He’d always been uncomfortable about the idea of expansion, he didn’t know why. Realistically, it was what had drawn him to SOLDIER in the first place; that constant drive to push forward...the promise of power and renown. To a certain degree, he still desired it, because with renown came honor and Angeal was constantly verbally beating him with his metaphysical ‘honor stick.’ As a recruit, he’d looked at those higher ranking than him and seen them as competitors. Blindly, he passed over the dutiful passivity behind their expressions...their willingness to become a mechanism in a machine that was already far too powerful. Maybe that was what had irritated him so much about Sephiroth; that he had everything he’d ever desired and yet he’d never reached out for more. That the General was obviously content with where he was at the top, and yet he wasn’t really at the top of anything...like a hood ornament with lethal proportions.

“I shouldn’t have said anything.” His fellow soldier murmured, sitting up somewhat so he could draw the wealth of his hair over one shoulder. Running his fingers through it contemplatively, he grimaced before throwing it back. “It’s just something that I’ve lived with for a long time.” There was silence between them for a second and then the younger man stood, glaring at the fish. “I’m going to catch that thing.” He said flatly. “It’s...insubordinate.” Genesis had to fight back a howl of incredulous laughter as the younger man strode away to kneel by the edge of the river, green eyes focused on the glimmering depths below. “It doesn’t bother you, I’m assuming.” He commented over his shoulder. The redhead had to pause for a minute-because he just _couldn’t_ be talking about the _fish_ -there was a splash of considerable proportions and the General reemerged somewhat wet but empty-handed. His target had escaped, never to be seen again. “Shinra.” The younger man clarified irritably, parting his now-sodden curtain of hair to peer at the Commander. “What they’re doing.”

Genesis couldn’t hold the laughter back any longer, his frame shaking gently as he regarded the subject his sapphire eyes were affectionately watching. The Commander couldn’t believe what had just happened; one moment the General had been talking about Shinra and Wutai war, and the next he was about to jump in the river to catch some fish. When the aforementioned man glared at him somewhat before sitting down, the redhead tried sobering up enough to continue their conversation.

“I’d be lying if I told you I’d given much thought to it. Surprising as it might sound to you, I simply accepted it as it was when we first joined SOLDIER. I had no illusions about war, despite what Angeal keeps lecturing everyone about. I just hadn’t expected it to last this long and to turn so ugly.” A tremor shook him as the images of some unnamed village flashed in front of his eyes. Genesis could remember walking in the mud, among the innumerable corpses that lay here and there, children, men, women; an entire dwelling committing suicide to not have to bear the shame of falling under Shinra’s grasp. Shaking his head to dispel the grim picture, he continued. “What I know is, that it’s been going on for far too long. There are just so many dead. I’m tired of having to write condolences to families when I can’t even put a picture to the name.”

“I’m sure that sounds self-defeating.” The Commander wondered, for a moment, what a warless future would be like; what would become of SOLDIER when there was simply no fight to be won, no monsters to kill. Would Shinra just disband them? Force them into infantry under Heidegger? More importantly, what would become of them? Angeal would probably return to Banora, to take care of his mother, probably to fall back into working at the orchards. Maybe his childhood friend would start teaching people how to fight monsters, act as the town’s guardian. The thought brought a smile to his lips.

But what about him? And Sephiroth?  

Those closest to him knew that Genesis Rhapsodos simply wasn’t a man who’d think about the future; at least not long-term future. With war and the constant motto of ‘kill or get killed’ being an integral part of his life, he simply never dwelled on it; a vague thought always lingering at the back of his head that he’d someday die on the battlefield, probably never hitting his thirties or forties. It was hard to imagine himself as some rickety old man, wasting away at some peaceful mansion.

He wasn’t entirely sure if their relationship made any difference in the grand scheme of things. To be honest, Genesis had expected it to fail time and time again, only to be proven otherwise. Now, he just wanted to enjoy what they had at the moment, without thinking about what would happen as they moved forward. The Commander was sure that he and the General would figure it out, eventually.

Turning to look at the man sitting by his side, the redhead ran his fingers through the damp silver tresses, pushing them behind Sephiroth’s ear. “What would you do when war is over? When SOLDIER is over?”

A short, dry laugh was his initial reply. Retreating from his hand, his fellow First pulled his mostly-soaked vest over his head...stuffing it in the backpack before leaning in to his fingers again, closing his eyes as he did so.

“SOLDIER, over?” He murmured, the deep baritone of his voice almost inaudible. “Maybe when Gaia is devoid of the regenerative power that gives it the ability to reign unchecked. Maybe when the stars fall out of the sky.” The silver-haired man blinked sleepily. “As for Wutai, I’m sure Shinra will be able to think of something else I can slaughter before a week is up.” His brows wrinkled as his face was pulled downwards somewhat by a half-hearted frown. “I’m getting too old for this, regardless. Maybe Hojo will have created something-someone new who can take my place in a few years.”

He shifted, green eyes peeking out from silver-wreathed lids; casting an idle gaze over the water in front of them. There was yet another stretch of placid quiet, and Genesis absorbed himself in the task of combing through endless silver locks. Overhead, the sun beat a slow, lazy path across the sky...throwing warmth onto the river rocks beneath them. The fish came back, with friends, and Sephiroth made a discontent, grumpy sort of noise before shutting his eyes again. Somewhere, a pheasant was making its way through the forest; a soft warble the only indicator of its stealthy passage. Once in a while, a soft breeze would make its way over the falls; catching water droplets and throwing cool, slightly moist air over their faces before disappearing as if it had never been.

“We could just stay here.” Sephiroth mumbled, looking dangerously close to falling asleep. “You could do whatever you wanted with my hair.”

Genesis chuckled, stretching out his legs as he pulled the younger man by his shoulder so that his silvery head was resting on his laps. His fingers tangled themselves in the brilliant tresses, drawing mindless soothing patterns against Sephiroth’s scalp. Closing his eyes, he put his fiery head back, leaning against his free hand that was splayed on the soft soil beneath them. Yeah, they could definitely stay here; enjoy the bright rays that filtered through the green canopy overhead until sun was simply no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genesis' space-out is based on Transient global amnesia.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Maybe...just maybe..his life had a propensity for happiness.

Executing an on-the-pass, Sephiroth moved quickly into a traverse; holding Masamune in a steady but fluid position. The General’s blade glinted in the early morning sun; steel catching solar rays only to throw them back like bright, long arcs of metal-imbued light. His booted feet made little to no sound on the dark, rich soil over which they danced; the fabric of his jacket but a whisper caught on the edge of his movement...like the fading sighs of black leather ghosts borne on a combative wind.

The immediate forest around him was silent in the face of his presence; almost breathless...as if cognizant of the power and grace wrought before it. The silver-haired man was-of course-oblivious to his magnificence. Brow furrowed, Sephiroth churned through the motions like a man possessed, his only focus the next set of maneuvers.

Crouching, the green-eyed First swung his sword in a retreative gesture-behind his back-only to bring his other arm round to execute a complex hand-over-hand single spiral; rising as he did so to fall forward into a lunge. It was early, though not for him. At HQ he tended to rise before anyone else to get as much paperwork done as possible. The nightmares he’d been plagued with seemed to have dissipated with his reconciliation with Genesis, and he was glad for it.

Narrowing his eyes, Sephiroth tilted his head before moving into the ‘guard’ position, tightening both hands around his blade. He was enjoying their time in Mideel, though the first few days had been less than impressive. Grudgingly, he acknowledged that that was his own fault.

The day at the falls was one to remember. The hike upwards was scenic, humbling in its beauty. Genesis had been quiet during their ascent, his visage vacant; Sephiroth had assumed that his mind was simply elsewhere. Still, when the redhead increased his pace and drew ahead, he’d allowed it, assuming that he needed some space. He’d taken the time to observe the forest around them; his eyes drinking in the sight of great, green leafy ferns, tangled vines and flowering trees.

When he’d finally made it to the falls, it was to find the Commander looking confused and disoriented. This was quickly hidden under an expression of neutral expectation, but the younger man had still noticed. Asking after his well-being was fruitless, and once they kissed he didn’t have the heart to press him...despite his concern. They had too much between them already, there was no need to add to it.

Genesis was a good social partner, quick to rise to a conversational topic and adamant with his opinions. He had a great love for poetry and the arts, and while Sephiroth had never been particularly partial to either, he still enjoyed listening to the redhead talk about them. The older man was animated in his passions as he was in nothing else, and listening to him speculate over the theoretical authors of Loveless wasn’t exactly educative, but it was certainly entertaining.

Creativity aside, Genesis was also a brilliant tactician, and their rapport in terms of military strategy was always fascinating. If Sephiroth left something to chance, the Commander was quick to bring him around...and he didn't think he knew half as much as his second-in-command did about topography.

The rumble of an engine caught his attention. Not because he was particularly listening for it, but because it was the distinctive purr of a high-end luxury class vehicle the President would drive. None of the locals-as far as he knew-owned any type of pricey transportation. Having an automobile in general was considered a luxury, and most of the vicinitative public used carts or chocobos.

Lowering his sword, the silver-haired First cocked his head, listening intently. He was too far out to discern any relevant information regarding identification, but he heard the distinctive slam of a car door and the soft undertone of voices; one of them was Genesis’. Sheathing Masamune, Sephiroth took to the forest, beating a relatively straightforward path back to the hot springs.

He was-to a certain degree-fairly sure that it couldn't be anyone but the Commander's father. If Shinra were coming to retrieve them, they'd have sent an entire squadron for backup and probably three or four Turks. You couldn't fit a squadron in a sedan. Nor could you fit them in the sleek, shiny black vehicle that was parked next to their chosen vacation spot. Crouched like a shiny black panther, the car in question practically screamed of excess. Sephiroth was fairly sure it was the Junon X67 luxury Vlakorados; though, he was no expert. He’d briefly overheard some of the younger recruits yammering on about it perhaps a week before. Truthfully, he was under the impression it wasn't out yet.

An old yet severe looking man he assumed was the chauffeur gave him a nod before resuming his station next to the automobile. Sephiroth caught the glimpse of a handgun winking at him from underneath his excessively pressed suit. Returning the gesture, the green-eyed soldier made his way up the flagstone path to the doors without a backward glance. The sound of Genesis’ voice grew louder as he stepped inside, raising an eyebrow at the gardener, who shrugged and got back to tending the koi pond without a word.

Leaving the foyer, his auditory senses led him to the back of the onsen, where there was a small reception room for guests. The landlord was striding down the hall leading to it when he came around the corner, and he grimaced when they drew level with each other, but otherwise didn't elaborate. Frowning, Sephiroth pressed forward, until the sound of raised voices grew apparent. Slowing his pace, the silver-haired First stopped entirely as he realized that-unlike the norm-it wasn't only Genesis’ voice that had increased in volume.

Hesitating, the General dithered for a moment before stepping to the side and leaning against the wall; cocking his head and narrowing his eyes in order to listen.

* * *

“It’s really a shame that General Sephiroth isn’t here. I was really looking forward to meeting him.” Mortimer Rhapsodos said curtly, handing him the paperwork before pulling his hands behind the small of his back, starting to pace around the room. “Do you suppose I could stay until he comes back?”

His sire was a sturdy old man, dressed impeccably in a brown tweed suit that looked too hot to wear in someplace like Mideel; his pepper-and-salt hair was slicked back. His hollow grey eyes were roaming over the room, an expression of utter disgust plastered over his shaved face as he grumpily mumbled something along the lines of _‘Couldn’t have brought him to Banora, could you?’_ under his breath.

“Thanks father, I’m okay. I really missed you, when was the last time we actually talked to each other? Ten years? I didn’t even notice how the years flew by.” Genesis said sarcastically, taking the folders by their spine, a paper fluttered down to the ground and the redhead bent down to retrieve it.

“Don’t be ridiculous Genesis. You were the one who asked not to be disturbed when you left Banora.” His father explained nonchalantly, and the redhead ‘hmm’ed, a smirk tugging on his lips as he countered. “You didn’t even try.”

“When are you going to decide to stop acting like a child? I wonder if Rebecca finally spoiled you.” The way Mortimer Rhapsodos was circling him, was reminiscent of all those times his father had been angry with him about something which -in his sire’s opinion- had been foolish, childish, and unacceptable. Despite the dark memories that were resurfacing in his mind, Genesis let out a short bitter laugh.

_Spoiled_. Like how every other child back at Banora thought him to be; everyone except Angeal.

He bit back the retort that was on his tongue, resigning himself to the shake of a fiery head, and a relieved sigh. The Commander was actually relieved that Sephiroth wasn’t here to have to tolerate his father’s presence. It’d be quite a feat if he could send the head of the Rhapsodos family away before the General returned from his training.

“How many days are left of your vacation?” The old man asked, and Genesis could already see the gears turning inside his head. Of course, he wanted to show Sephiroth the entire Rhapsodos empire. His father, too, looked at the silver-haired man like an asset, an opportunity, and that made his lips curl in contempt. Biting his tongue for the second time that day, he decided to keep quiet. The last thing he wanted was another fight, especially when his companion could come back any moment.

“We have a couple of days.” Genesis threw over his shoulder as he went to take a seat, leaving the documents on a nearby table. A small voice berated him for telling the truth while he could’ve lied, but he shook his head. He wasn’t a child anymore. His father couldn’t force him to go anywhere.

“Excellent, then. Why don’t you and the General come to Banora on your way back?”

Turning the piece of paper in his hands, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Mortimer Rhapsodos was saying something, but Genesis wasn’t really paying it any heed, almost not realizing that he had whispered ‘What is this?’.

The object in question was a receipt for a really huge sum of money, being transferred to his father’s account from Shinra; as a collaborative subsidy. No matter how hard he dug in his brain for answers, he couldn’t come up with a reason as to why Shinra would pay money to his family…

“What is this?” He spoke louder this time, glaring at the paper as though it had wronged him somehow. The Commander was sure that his sire had heard him this time because the footfalls stopped, a tangible silence filling the space around them.

When he received no answer, the blue-eyed soldier stood up, quickly closing the distance between them to almost shove the paper in his father’s face. The elder looked surprised, shocked, but there was something wrong about it; he even tried halfheartedly to snatch it away from Genesis’ hands before the redhead pulled the paper back. “I said what is _this_?!” He raised his voice, tempted to yank the man in front of him by the collar and shake him so hard he’d finally speak.

What he hadn’t expected was the pain that bloomed across his cheek as his father backhanded him, his head whipping to a side. Wiping his broken lip with the back of his palm, his face twisted into the ugliest sneer.

“ _Know your place_ , young man!” The elder barked.

His eyes burned with the hatred that was welling up, threatening to spill over as he turned to look at his father. The same disgusted expression was what greeted him before the older man spoke. “Is this how they discipline you in SOLDIER? Have you simply learnt nothing from spending so much time in Midgar, too busy bedding escorts?”

His blood was boiling with rage as he stood his ground, not shying away from the accusations that were thrown in his face. “So you’ve actually _followed_ what I’ve been doing all these years? You know the number of girls and boys I’ve fucked, but you choose to turn a blind eye to whatever I’ve done on the field, _don’t you_?!” Genesis spat, pacing around the room in hopes of suppressing his anger, but to no avail.

Letting the paper flutter to the ground and yanking the brown lapels, he slammed the older man to the wall, almost raising him a foot above the ground. “Always! _Always_ depreciating me! Underestimating me! Always mocking and scornful of _everything_ I did for You! But _NO_! You never saw _anything_! Too busy expanding your fucking empire, always lusting for _more_ money!” Genesis hissed angrily, the struggles of his father as he tried to free himself not at all fazing him as he continued. “Can’t you _see_?! I’m standing right in front of _you_! Your son-...!”

His eyes fluttered closed of their own accord as the offending liquid hit his cheek. “You are _not_ my son.” Mortimer Rhapsodos barked back, yanking his collar from his loosening grasp. Extricating himself from the space between Genesis and the wall, the redhead could hear his footfalls against the tatami as his _father_ went toward the door. “You’re expendable, so mind your own affairs. Shinra won’t hesitate offing you if you become too much of a nuisance.”

The way the elder spoke those words, so cold and so distant, Genesis couldn’t just take it anymore. “Go away!” His voice shook as he yelled, and he was grateful that Mortimer Rhapsodos’ back was facing him when he turned around, shouting. “ _GO AWAY!_ ”

Without a single glance over his shoulder, his _father_ left the room. The moment the shōji was closed, the urge to crumble by the wall was so strong that his fingers scratched the surface, looking for some purchase, anything to anchor him.

_‘You’re pathetic!’_ The memory of his father’s voice burned inside him like a white hot brand and he caved in, hiding his face in his hands as silent sobs wracked his frame.

* * *

It took every facet of Sephiroth's will not to punch Mortimer Rhapsodos in the middle of the hallway.

He didn't...barely, but the idea of knocking the man down a size was incredibly satisfying. By the time the Commander’s father had stepped out of the reception room, he was standing in the center of the corridor grasping Masamune's hilt with trembling fingers. His son was _crying_ in the room behind him, and the man in question didn't even seem to care. Leveling a look of disgust over his shoulder, the head of the Rhapsodos family strode forward only to stop at the sight of the silver-haired First. Sephiroth felt contempt slide down his spine like the thick, oleaginous slide of an egg yolk as Mortimer's expression turned onto one of genial delight. It was so cohesive with how Hojo's expression went from lunacy in the labs to professionalism in front of the President that he wanted to vomit. Vaguely, he noticed that the man was slightly disheveled; which explained the scuffle he had heard before. He felt a savage sense of pride.

“General!” The subject of his rage exclaimed, spreading his arms and grinning at him like he was an old friend. “I've just been talking to Genesis about you!” The green-eyed soldier's will against violence wavered and he gritted his teeth. Mortimer frowned. “Are you alright my boy? You look pale.”

Forcing himself to loosen his grip on his sword, Shinra's finest fell back into his habitual tendency of formal address when it came to tyrants. Straightening, Sephiroth gazed impassively at the older man.

“Sir.” He said flatly.

Rhapsodos blinked, and then he threw back his head and laughed, moving forward yet again until they were but inches apart. Lifting his arm, he slapped a meaty hand onto the General's shoulders.

“Now, now there's no need for that! I feel like we're practically family! Genesis speaks so highly of you, you know.”

Sephiroth felt his eye twitch. A vision of Genesis screaming _'asshole!’_ at him rose swiftly in his mind but he was too angry to appreciate the humor in the situation. An _absurd_ situation, because did Mortimer think that he and the Commander never spoke? That he didn't know anything about the redhead's life? Did the head of the Rhapsodos family assume that he was just as negligent of his peers as he was of his family? Another quiet sob came from behind the door and he was suddenly completely and thoroughly finished with this conversation. The old man was still talking.

“I was just telling Genesis that you ought to come and visit Banora for the remainder of your vacation!” He chortled. “We'd be honored to share our history with you.” He cast a fond, sappy, and entirely fake glance back the way he had come. “And of course, we haven't had our son home in such a long time. My wife misses him terribly.”

“...Does she?” Sephiroth said slowly, his interest waning by the second.

“Of course! But you know, our orchards are the finest in all of Midee-”

“-Excuse me” The green-eyed soldier said abruptly, stepping to the side and striding towards the closed entryway. When he reached it, he glanced blithely over his shoulder. Mortimer was gaping at him. “It's been a pleasure.”

The door slammed shut.

Inside, Genesis was slumped against the wall. Verily, it looked like he had collapsed against it and simply stayed there. Sephiroth couldn't see his face, as it was buried in his arms, but the way his shoulders shook was telling. For half a second, he was sorely tempted to storm back into the hallway and hack off someone's head. However, the sound of receding, furious footsteps was enough to quell his urge. That and the fact that the man he loved was currently soaking the tatami. The Commander was so upset he didn't seem to have noticed him come in. To remedy that, the General spoke before attempting to approach.

“Genesis.” He said softly.

The figure in front of him tensed suddenly, as though Sephiroth had caught the scarlet-haired soldier red handed. It took a moment for the older man to find his voice, a very low whisper of something like _‘You heard it all, didn’t you?’_

The General hesitated, caught between the lie that was habitual...borne out of a need to protect himself, and the truth that was his auditory voyeurism. It wouldn't do either of them any good to be dishonest. He'd listened to the entire conversation, yes…even though he'd had plenty of opportunities to walk away. SOLDIER didn't _spy…_ and yet here he was, reluctant to tell the truth about his snooping like a child caught with his fingers in the cookie jar. He didn't know, truthfully, how the redhead would handle his response. Emotional distress was fifty-fifty in terms of Genesis, and he was pushing his luck simply by being there.

“...I did.” He said slowly, haltingly. “And I think I want to kill your father.”

When the Commander visibly stiffened, he threw in the towel. Striding forward, he knelt on the floor...reached forward to let his right hand run through waves of crimson hair. When he wasn't thrown across the room, he moved closer, trying to wrap his arms around the blue-eyed soldier despite the awkward position. His companion didn't move, but he didn't relax either. The redhead's entire body seemed to vibrate with tension. Settling somewhat sideways, Sephiroth buried his head in scarlet locks, pressing a kiss to a flushed, barely-visible cheek before letting his thumb stroke the apex of where neck met spine.

“I'm sorry.” He murmured.

Nothing changed about the way the redhead had been sitting there. Despite what he’d come to know as a soothing gesture, Genesis hadn’t relaxed one bit. The crying had stopped, for which Sephiroth was grateful, but he couldn’t help but wonder if this was all just the calm before the storm.

“Why?” Genesis said curtly, raising his head only enough to press the balls of his hands to his eyes, wiping at them roughly before staring blankly to the side, avoiding Sephiroth’s gaze.

The silver-haired man didn’t know what the older man was asking about. Why he wanted to kill the Commander’s father? Or why he’d apologized? Thinking about the words he had whispered only a few moments ago, the General wondered why, himself. The similarities between Mortimer Rhapsodos and his caretaker were obvious, and as much as he hated Hojo, he’d never really thought about killing the scientist. The image of imbedding Masamune inside his guts, or slicing that scrawny neck had simply never occurred to him.

And while Genesis’ sire had certainly behaved very poorly, he hadn’t come close to what Hojo used to do to him on a daily basis. Was it because somehow he was more attuned to the redhead’s pain than his own? He exhaled unsteadily.

“In terms of why I listened in, I heard his car... and by the time I reached the hallway you were already arguing...and I wasn't sure if you'd need me.” He paused. “Not in the sense that you're helpless...but...you know how I feel about you. I was worried about you because I care. In terms of why I want to _kill_ him; because he insulted you, said things about you that are entirely false, and he made you cry.” Sephiroth hesitated. “The last one is enough for me to kill him on its own really.” He said flatly.

His companion hadn't moved. Really, he supposed he should be grateful that Genesis was there at all. The fact that he hadn't left the room was at least a good indicator that he was listening. Truthfully, he was hard pressed in terms of what to say. Mortimer was the Commander's father; how could he say anything that would assuage the anguish of a spurned son? It was clear to him-now at least-that some small part of the older man still wanted the approval of his sire. He was unquestionably glad that he hadn't done anything irreversible in the hallway...he didn't think he'd be able to make up for it. At the same time, there was no good way to go about this, because his fellow First was reticent when it came to sharing personal feelings.

Kissing Genesis’ temple, he pulled the scarlet-haired soldier closer and tucked his head under his chin, furrowing his brows. On the other side of the onsen, the sounds of the kitchen were a quiet backdrop, along with the gardener shuffling in and out of the front door. It was strange-he reflected-that things would still go on as they were outside. The sun was still shining and the birds were still singing. The soft lap of springwater against the shore was a sharp contrast to the roiling turbulence caught within such a small space. It seemed wrong somehow...too bright and too surreal.

“Is there anything I can do?” Sephiroth queried.

The bitter hollow laugh that rang out was rather unexpected. “I guess we’re even now.” When Sephiroth tilted his head to seek those blue eyes, the redhead explained. “You wanting to kill my dad, and I, Hojo.”

A warm hand covered his, calloused fingertips caressing his digits while the Commander moved against his chest, soft fiery locks almost tickling his throat before burning chapped lips brushed against his skin as the scarlet-haired soldier spoke. “Thank you… for being here with me.” Intertwining his fingers with Sephiroth’s before pressing his hand against the steadying thrum of his heart, Genesis continued. “I’ll cherish every single moment we spent here, _together_ …”

The General could sense that this wasn’t over. “But?”

A soft warm sigh danced against his neck, a second hand coming to cover his against the older man’s heart. All was quiet again for a minute, and the General wondered if the man in his arms was going to continue at all.

“I want to go back.” The redhead paused, looking down. “You can stay, if you want.”

And Sephiroth tried to understand that.

Because Genesis was upset and hurting, he tried to make sense of the Commander's sudden change of plans. They'd intended to spend a considerable length of time in Mideel, and while it had taken him a long time to adjust to the concept of a 'vacation’, he was learning to enjoy it. The resentment the silver-haired soldier felt at the rescindment of their agreement was irrational, he knew that, accepted it...but it didn't make it go away. He felt strangely... _jealous_ of the idea of returning to HQ...of sharing Genesis with his colleagues. This, too, was irrational...and he was irritated with himself for having such thoughts in the first place. But he couldn't shake the idea that something was off about the whole situation; that his fellow First had an ulterior reason for departing that was separate from his father's cruelty.

Maybe it was him.

Sephiroth ducked his head to hide his frown. It was... understandable. Their rapport wasn't always entirely positive, and it wasn't exactly what a therapist would call healthy. Perhaps Genesis’ conversation with his father had jarred him back into reality, into the stark truth that they could never work out.

He'd wondered, previously, if this was what had stopped the older man from telling him he loved him back; the fact that their lives weren't their own. And it was presumptuous to assume the redhead loved him in the first place, anyway. Just because he saw what he hearkened to as love in the other man’s eyes didn't make it real...and it was incredibly arrogant and self-serving to assume so. He could safely say that Genesis cared for him, was affectionate with him and valued his presence, but the label of 'love’ was a personal thing, almost a private thing before it was said out loud. Sephiroth would not violate that privacy by jumping to conclusions. Moreover, he'd promised Genesis that he wouldn't.

If the Commander had realized their time together wasn't worth committing to long-term, where did that leave him? The green-eyed First was a bit ashamed to admit he felt somewhat anxious at the idea of returning to a casual exchange...he didn't know if he could handle it. He'd grown used to having his fellow First near him; often within arm's reach. Simultaneously, the General was _frustrated_ that he'd become so dependent on the affections of someone else without noticing. And maybe he was jumping to assumptions, but he also didn't want to fool himself into thinking that this was something permanent. Nothing in his life had ever been permanent but Shinra. Hesitantly, he opened his mouth.

“...We don't have to go to Banora.”

Pathetic.

The SOLDIER in him sneered at the way he tried to cajole Genesis into acquiescence. Sephiroth was instantly sickened with himself. He didn't _wheedle_ , no matter how distraught his conversant was. And yet here he was, borderline whinging in order to try and preserve something that might never last in the first place

Oblivious to the dark twist his thoughts had taken, the older man pulled back, a frown creasing his brow as his sapphire eyes absently looked at a spot on his leather coat. Sephiroth knew in an instant that Genesis was up to something, only what, no one knew.

“Promise me something.” Slowly, those determined azure eyes locked with his emerald as two strong hands encircled his wrists, holding firmly but not too tight. When the silver-haired First raised an elegant eyebrow, the redhead explained. “Promise me you won’t say yes just because of me. I want you to want this; if the thought is appalling to you even in the slightest, we’re not doing it. Okay?”

Maybe he had miscalculated.

Furrowing his brows, the younger man tried to make sense of what his companion was saying. Flexing his hands minutely against encircling fingers, he closed his eyes and attempted to center his racing thoughts. Evidently, Genesis was okay with leaving him behind. Why? Did he think he wanted to stay here alone? The only reason he'd consented to come, in the first place, was because he'd wanted to spend time with him, didn't the Commander feel the same? Did he have an ulterior motive? Hojo’s constant, repetitive litany of _'trust no one’_ echoed in the back of his mind, but he pushed it away. Genesis wouldn't do anything to hurt him...but there was still something off about the whole situation.

Sephiroth was accosted by a strong sense of foreboding; of caution and of imminent danger. He was the furthest from superstitious as the grass was from the moon, but that didn't shake off the feeling that he was missing something... something vital. The redhead was suddenly too calm, too collected for someone who had just recently been veritably bawling. Something had reverted his focus enough for him to recover within a matter of minutes. The General was much the same, but he knew that emotional rehabilitation was different for other people compared to him. He could compartmentalize it to an extreme degree because he'd been trained for it since he was five. Genesis didn't have any such training.

He couldn't dwell on it.

Every angle he examined gave forth more questions than answers...and none of them were good. ...Maybe he ought to talk to Hewley; he knew the Commander better than anyone else. If something was amiss, the dark-haired First was bound to know something. If not, they could at least share their concerns. After a few seconds of deliberation, he dismissed the idea. Not because it wasn't fallible, but because he didn't know Angeal well enough to confide in him. Sephiroth was an adult, and adults didn't fall back onto a third party for relationship problems. He wasn't even sure that Genesis’ childhood friend knew about them in the first place. Asking questions might force him to reveal the nature of their rapport, and if the redhead hadn't told Angeal yet, it would be a gross breach of privacy.

“I'm coming with you.” He said dully. “I came here to be with you, not to appreciate the view.” Green eyes turned to half-moons behind exhausted lids. “Just...tell me one thing.” When the older man looked at him questioningly, he fought to keep his expression neutral. “...Why does this feel like goodbye?”

“What?!” Genesis was watching him with a bewildered expression, frowning as he continued. “What are you saying? You think I want us to be _over?!_ ”

Sephiroth didn’t really know what to say. For the first time in his life, his thoughts were running like gold chocobos in the Marshlands, fleeing from his control, from his compartmentalization; wild and untamable. And he had the redhead to blame for that… he wanted to, even desperately, but in the end couldn’t. Because that wasn’t the truth, and it wasn’t fair. He was as much to blame, as Genesis was. Maybe even more so, because he had let his guard down, he had wanted for something the older man couldn’t, didn’t want to give him.

The warmth of the hands cradling the sides of his face brought him back to the present, where the subject of his ruminations was watching him with a strange expression on his pale face. Sephiroth shook his head, not pulling away but choosing to look away instead. He didn’t want to have to decipher what was going on in the scarlet-haired man’s head.

“Who could believe this, the great General Sephiroth forgetting something with his photographic memory?” Despite the nature of those words, Genesis’ voice was impossibly soft, as though he was reciting stanzas from some beloved poem book; the complete opposite of how he taunted him at their fights and spars. “Have you _completely_ forgotten what I told you in Wutai? Sephiroth. Sephiroth, look at me…” Azure eyes were seeking his as the older man tilted his head, and the General just wanted to close his eyes shut, as if that made the man in front of him disappear. Slowly, he looked up, crescents of emerald appearing underneath the bow of silver lashes.

“I’m not going _anywhere_.” The Commander repeated, leaning his forehead against Sephiroth’s, slowly, affectionately nuzzling his face as those long fingers delved further in his thick silvery mane. “I adore you… I want you, more than anything.” Genesis’ chapped lips grazed his skin as he spoke, planting feather-light kisses across his cheek.

Maybe he had _really_ miscalculated.

Because the redhead wasn't treating him with any greater or lesser deference than he usually did. Opening his mouth to receive a particularly ardent kiss, the younger man forced himself to relax. It didn't matter-he reasoned-whatever was on his fellow soldier's mind didn't matter because obviously, it didn't affect them. And he wasn't going to press for it like he might have a few weeks ago, because it wouldn't get him anywhere. Inhaling, Sephiroth tilted his head, let his tongue flicker out against warm lips until they parted to allow his advance. Letting his fingers brush the contour of a proud jaw, the General opened his eyes so he could observe the soft fan of each lash on the pearlescent skin of Genesis’ cheeks.

He could wait.

If the issue became prominent, or affected him in some way, that was when he’d address it. Right now, he was content with letting the Commander deal with it how he wanted. Maybe in the future he could expect less reticence, but for right now he’d take what he could get. Meeting Genesis’ father had provided him with a window into his childhood, and while he couldn’t condone the actions that had followed, it had allowed him to understand the older man’s reluctance to share anything personal. Other than Angeal and Gillian, the redhead had always had to deal with ridicule or dissatisfaction. He knew what that felt like, that fear of never being particularly adequate, Hojo had made sure to drill it into his head. Drawing back somewhat, Sephiroth let his left hand rise to tilt his companion’s chin upwards; ‘till their eyes were somewhat level with each other.

“Just to clarify.” He murmured. “I...it’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s that-” The silver-haired First paused and struggled with himself. “-Sometimes,” He began haltingly. “I look at you and-” He huffed exasperatedly, letting the palm under Genesis’ chin rise to cup his cheek. “-I see _so much…_ ” When the redhead looked doubtful Sephiroth let out a short bark of laughter, shaking his head. “What astounds me more is that you don’t see it. You don’t see how brilliant you are.” He looked away. “It was part of our agreement that you wouldn’t ask of me what I couldn’t give, but at the same time I’ve wondered if that was a fair request. I’m...immersed in the concern that...where you have so much, I feel like I have so little, not enough.” Raising a hand when the Commander opened his mouth to protest, he continued.

“Realistically, tactically, in terms of military I know it’s not true. But as a person...I don’t have much substance, and you have so much of it. Moreover, I’m Shinra’s property...there’s only so much I can give you.” Red brows drew together and he smiled crookedly, letting his fingers caress the jut of a fair cheekbone. “I know it doesn’t change where you are, or where you want to be. But it bears mentioning that I’m constantly looking for reasons why you’re still here when I obviously have so little to give you.”

Genesis shook his head, running a hand through his fiery locks as he whispered ‘Sephiroth… Sephiroth… Sephiroth’ rather irritatedly before drawing him in for a short but no less heated kiss. “You, my friend, make me wonder how a person as brilliant as you can sometimes be _an insufferable idiot_.” Coming from anyone else, the General would have probably laid the person’s head on their chest by now, but the way those azure eyes were looking at him, almost endearingly, quelled whatever retort he had on the tip of his tongue. A self-satisfied grin broke on the redhead’s soft moist lips before he continued. “And that kiss was my polite way of asking you to shut up and tell me if we have a deal?”

Mollified, Sephiroth allowed the ghost of a smile to spread over his face, tilting his head.

“We do.” He murmured.

After a moment of affectionate silence, he groaned and extricated himself, rising as he did so. Genesis was quick to follow, his ascent a fluid, sinuous coil of fabric and muscle. They made it to the door before the redhead hesitated, a contemplative expression crossing his visage before he about-faced and vanished from the younger man’s line of sight, reappearing just as quickly with a manila folder in his hand and a blank countenance. The hall was empty-as he’d assumed-and he was quietly relieved, though he could still hear the soft hum of the parked car out front. Glancing to his right, he was surprised to see the Commander thumbing through the folder as if he hadn’t heard it.

“Alright?” The General asked quietly.

The older man made a soft noise that didn’t really tell him anything, apparently absorbed in his thoughts. Out of unspoken agreement, they went to their rooms; and Genesis immediately curled up in a chair in the corner, pulling a piece of paper out that held no real distinction as far as the silver-haired First could see. Apparently fascinated, he remained silent as Sephiroth prepared for what he assumed was their immediate departure. It didn’t take long; neither of them had brought an excess of personal items, and the few souvenirs they’d collected or bought were already stowed away. When he’d finished, the green-eyed soldier turned around and eyed his companion somewhat impatiently.

“There’s something on your mind.” He said quietly.

As though broken out of a trance, Genesis looked up blankly, ‘hmm’ing absentmindedly as he thumbed the piece of paper before putting it inside the folder. Sephiroth’s eyes followed the movement before returning to the redhead as he stood up. “It’s what I was talking about earlier. Despite my better judgment, and the fact that we’d probably end up having to tolerate my parents, I think it’s actually not a bad idea to go to Banora after all.” There was a mischievous glint in those blue eyes, that little quirk the older man’s lips did when he was up to something. “You could meet aunt Gillian, see the orchards, the underground caves… I want to show you _everything._ ”

And despite the fact that the redhead's change of plans was unusual, despite the uneasy, niggling sensation in his stomach, despite the fact that there was still obviously something on his mind...the younger man caved. Because he loved Genesis... because-as far as he was concerned-Genesis could order him to bring him the stars, and he would do it...because he couldn't refuse Genesis anything. And so, Sephiroth smiled and threw his rucksack onto the bed, crossed the room to bend down to bestow a kiss on crimson locks...his gaze drifting to the folder once again as he did.

“Alright.” He said quietly. “Let's go to Banora.”


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem at the beginning of this chapter is written by the amazing Arnediadglanduath.

_My dear devoted parents have invited me to dine,_

_I dressed up in my finest and devoured all the wine._

 

_They asked me to speak sonnets...I delivered slurry prose,_

_and if I dare-I will strip bare-and make them paint my pose._

 

_I cannot stand the silverware, it makes my fingers itch,_

_the lady of the house protests but she’s an awful bitch._

 

_The conversation’s stagnant and the soup has gotten cold,_

_I'd shag the butler 'cross the table if he wasn't fucking old._

 

_The patrons in their mangy dress cavort about the hall,_

_I'm just about to join them wearing not a thing at all._

 

_The music’s somewhat ‘classic’ with an age you can't defunk,_

_and I'd break that awful sound system if I wasn't so damn drunk._

 

_I cannot stand the thought that I've just squandered all my time,_

_so I'm sitting in the basement pounding out this awful rhyme._

 

_We are the overprivileged, good fellow, don't you see?_

_…But I'd rather drink merlot alone than with my family._

* * *

Genesis closed his eyes as they trudged uphill, inhaling deeply the scent that he’d missed for a very long time.

Overhead, the perfect arc of Banora White trees intertwined with each other, creating an archway of white bark and green leaves, adorned here and there with ripening purple apples almost matching the color of the welkin above. It was nearly twilight, celestial bodies which had been shy of making an appearance throughout the day were now showing their faces. The silvery full moon lit the path of rich soil under their boots, reflecting off the roof tiles of the Rhapsodos mansion as it peeked over the hill.

Beside him, his silver-haired companion was looking ahead, seeming not to care much about the scenery, or deciding to keep quiet about it. Genesis wondered if his silence had something to do with all the things the General had told him after his meeting with his _father_. The Commander knew that Sephiroth was probably far from content with the way he’d answered, or rather _avoided_ answering, but neither of them had been willing to bring it up; deciding to enjoy the calm and quiet company the other provided for most of their travel to Banora.

Having packed their stuff, they’d paid and thanked the owners for the rooms they’d been staying in before leaving toward the main road. They’d walked about five miles, surrounded by farms and plantations as far as eyes could see, until the tranquility was broken by the sputtering of an old engine. It’d been a last-minute decision to hitch a ride, and for the next hour Genesis had been trying to persuade Sephiroth to relax, and not to worry about getting hay in his silvery mane. In the end, the redhead had pushed the younger man back, swallowing the playful sound that was somewhere between a chuckle and a yelp as he’d captured the perfect bow of those familiar lips between his own.

They’d lounged back on the forage, enjoying the warm brilliant rays as the Sol rode its carriage across the heavens above, and once in a while, Genesis caught himself gazing at the man lying beside him, a smile already sneaking on his lips. From the moment they’d paid the driver until they’d reached the municipal building, the Commander was occupied with taking every single strand of hay out of the moonlight tresses.

Now, his childhood house was looming in front of them; a three story mansion with a gable roof, a dozen sash windows-half of which were on the other side of the building-filled with brilliant light. They were already in the courtyard overlooking the rest of the houses around the main square of the town, down below.

Genesis pressed his lips into a tight line, his hold on the shoulderband of his rucksack tightening as he stopped in his tracks, already dreading his choice and thinking about all the possible ways everything could go wrong. Without a thought, his free hand reached for Sephiroth’s, lacing their fingers together before giving it a slightly firm squeeze. The green-eyed First was looking at him, probably going to repeat what he’d told him back in the reception room.

The Commander hadn’t even informed his father about coming here, and despite the immense joy their sudden appearance at his sire’s door would bring the old man, despite that small voice telling him to run away and never return, Genesis knew that this had to be done.

The scarlet-haired soldier tried to smile reassuringly before letting go. Traversing the last couple of steps that separated them from the decoratively carved door and taking the gold knocker with his hand, he hit it against the mahogany wood. Soon it opened to reveal a servant, a look of surprise fleeting across her face as she exclaimed ‘Oh sire, Genesis’ come back!’ before running down the foyer to inform his parents as if she hadn’t already.

Genesis chuckled, holding the door open for Sephiroth who arched a silver eyebrow before stepping over the threshold. Past the foyer was a mezzanine floor with the stairs in front of them leading to the second level where bedrooms and his mother’s painting room was, and then up to the attics where the servants slept. To their right was a short corridor that led to the french door of the study, and to their left the door to his father’s personal office and the dining room. Below them, in the basement, were the kitchen and the laundry room.

The staccato of heels hitting the mosaic made them turn toward their right, where Rebecca Rhapsodos was following behind his father as his parents came to greet them. She looked much younger than his sire, almost too young to have a son as old as Genesis. Though the way she always put makeup on and the way she dressed, made her look much older than she truly was. The redhead had always assumed that it was a marriage done for monetary and status gain, not something born out of affection and love. He’d always assumed so because he’d just been unable to cope with the loveless lifestyle he’d been raised with.

“Genesis, General! What a surprise! I wasn’t expecting you to come here after our meeting in Mideel.” Mortimer Rhapsodos had spread his arms, wearing a grin that was too personal in Genesis’ opinion before coming to clap both of them on their shoulders. “My boy, why didn’t you tell me in advance so we could prepare everything for you and the General’s convenience?” Shaking his shoulder, his father tried to act the figure he’d never played in his life, and it took every ounce of self-control he had to stop his lips from turning into a bitter grimace. Instead, he smiled like a good son he _was_.

Genesis tried to be as impersonally polite as he could, stepping back slowly to get rid of the hand that was squeezing his shoulder without being rude. “I’m sure it’s fine father. We’re only staying for a couple of day-...”

“Nonsense! Now that we have the privilege of hosting the great General, we aren’t going to let him leave so soon!” This was followed by a peal of hearty laughter, not at all unlike the President’s. Behind the elder, his mother stood rather irritatedly, having tried to greet them a couple of times with more deceitful pleasantries, only to be beaten to it by his father who’d interrupted the redhead as well. Those grey eyes never looked anywhere but Sephiroth; probably trying to gauge the amount of money that would pour into his pockets if he could strike some sort of deal with the silver-haired man. What deal, only Ifrit knew.

Opportunists. That’s what they all were.

A shudder slithered down his spine as he looked at his companion commiseratingly. Sephiroth was really tense, probably stuck between cutting down the offending hand on his shoulder or trying to act politely for his sake instead. Oh, and he seemed to be apparently at a loss for words.

“Father, I’m sure we can all rest and chat after we grab a bite to eat. The General and I’ve had a _long_ day.” Genesis smiled some more, wishing that smiles could kill as he did. Oblivious to all this, Mortimer Rhapsodos finally let go of Sephiroth, gesturing toward the dining room before half turning toward his mother.

“Oh, how mindless of me. Please make yourself comfortable; I’m sure Genesis can show you the dining room.” There was a pause and the scarlet-haired soldier turned around, sighing with relief that finally they could get a moment of peace, his father continued behind him. “Rebecca tell the head servant to prepare a delicious meal for the General. Genesis, General, I’ll see you later in the study.” Nodding curtly, almost like he was superior to them somehow, Mortimer Rhapsodos ordered before leaving.

Out of the corner of his eye, through the fringe of auburn hair, he could see his mother lingering there, like a pawn waiting to be moved, with that greyish flowing gown, and the same melancholy look she always wore, waiting for a chance to speak. For a moment, Genesis wondered if it had been worth it, marrying his father, losing her youth and getting all dolled up and domesticated. For what? The redhead knew they didn’t love each other, so why were they still living together? Out of some sense of commitment, or because the arrangements simply benefited them both? The feeling of pity he felt was overwhelming, and he’d wanted to turn around and comfort her somehow; something she’d never done for him, always stuck in her paintings and piano-playing and embroidery. He decided not to fall for it again, like when he was a child; taking one step after another until he and Sephiroth were inside the dining room and the door was closed behind him.

Leaning against the french door, Genesis rolled his eyes, sighing exasperatedly. “Well. Sephiroth, my family.” He gestured toward the door, a nervous smile curling his lips. “My family, General Sephiroth. Or maybe I should introduce you as my _suitor_ , what with you wanting to court me with my father’s permission earlier?” The Commander tried to lighten the mood, realizing only after the words had left his mouth that this was simply nothing the Genesis Sephiroth knew would say or do. It seemed like he was already losing control, and it hadn’t even been an hour since they’d arrived. “Thankfully, we’re still alive.” He tried to fix it, only to make it worse.

The younger man seemed to grow more and more tense with every word that left his mouth. Beryl eyes flickered to the door to the dining room and the redhead was startled to catch an undertone of _panic_ in his gaze. His expression quickly rearranged itself into magnanimous neutrality however, and it was only then that he caught the muted *tap* of a high-heeled shoe. Immediately, his spirits plummeted, dread filling his mouth like cold poison. Because there was no telling what Rebecca Rhapsodos would do with that kind of information. He had-essentially-just put his and Sephiroth's reputations on a chopping block; one with a manicured board and a vermilion-painted blade.

Struck speechless with the horror of his carelessness, Genesis felt the room tilt slightly as panic took over in place of logic, the consequences of his frivolity unfolding in his mind like clips cut from silent film. It seemed-however-that while he was busy losing his head, the General was busy using his own. Even as he envisioned the silver-haired First getting dragged to the labs, the man in question was formulating a spectacular save. He had time to focus on the upward curve of sanguine lips before a velvety chuckle made him startle. How could Sephiroth _laugh_ in a situation like this?!

“I recall you making such a proposition to my secretary last week.” His fellow First said magnanimously. “From what I could tell, you had quite the weekend. Tell me, did you think the reverse would work on me?” He 'tsk’ed’. “My, my, Commander, you're getting rusty.”

Genesis found himself having to resist the wild urge to kiss the man in front of him. Because-as far as he was concerned-Sephiroth was a genius. The fact that he'd used his reputation as a philanderer could wait. The younger man had-essentially-just dodged the disaster of the century. Even as a wide, _adoring_ grin split his face, the offending heels faded, going towards his father’s study...the sharp staccato of their impact somewhat irritated in their mannerisms. Inwardly, he breathed the most gigantic sigh of relief in his entire existence. At the same time, the dining room doors opened to reveal a petite woman dressed in proper servile attire. Offhandedly, he acknowledged that she was new, as he didn't recognize her. She was carrying a tray of what looked like cold-cut chicken sandwiches; more than likely a product of whatever his parents had eaten for dinner. These were artfully arranged in a semi-circle around a bottle of Banora-Red.

Genesis fought not to sneer.

His creation of apple juice had had far reaching success for the estate; he might have been proud of it...if he had any great love for his familial heritage. As it was, he was simply grateful it wasn't something people often tended to remember. He'd rather be recognized for his success in regards to SOLDIER than something he came up with as a child.

“A bit simple tonight, I'm afraid.” The girl commented, setting the tray down on the massive table before straightening and dipping a brief curtsy. “I'm Mia, by the way, begging my Lord’s pardon.” She added, looking anxiously at Genesis. “I'll just be outside, if you're needing anything.”

Another curtsy and she hastened to the door once more, which swung open soundlessly before closing once again and leaving them alone.

With Sephiroth sitting at the head of the table, Genesis nearly slumped into the chair to his right, running a hand through his auburn hair as he regarded the food in front of him. He was so hungry, but at the same time felt no real appetite considering that he might as well have managed the impossible feat of causing yet another Rhapsodos catastrophe had it not been for the General’s cunning.

As they both busied themselves with their sandwiches, the redhead was mostly playing with his food and watching the green-eyed soldier from the corner of his eyes, trying to think of what just had come over him to make such stupid, _stupidass_ remarks.

“I’m sorry.” Genesis blurted out low enough only for Sephiroth to hear, feeling a slight heat spreading from his cheeks to his neck and ears. “And thank you, really, for everything.”

Sephiroth paused, a sandwich halfway to his mouth. Putting it to the side, his companion leaned forward and angled himself in order to face him better.

“I'm not going to pretend I fully understand why we're here.” He said calmly. “But Genesis, I'm on your side, I'm not angry with you.” He gestured at the lacquered table and the shimmering silverware that was merely for show. “This is your home-” When the older man twitched slightly he amended his statement. “-Or at the very least, it was. I'll admit that I'm not entirely... comfortable in this sort of situation.” He tilted his head. “I was trained in ergonomics, not etiquette.” His fellow First grimaced. “I...am not going to pretend that your statement wasn't frivolous, but under the circumstances, I understand why you said it.”

_Frivolous._

That was a word for it. Professional and somewhat neutral...very Sephiroth if he had to go that far. The scarlet-haired soldier was more inclined to think of it as idiotic, but the General wasn't the type to go that far. Regardless, there was too much to concentrate on already. They still had to face his parents again after this...as miserable as the mere thought of it might be.

“Aren’t you hungry?” The silver-haired First commented, raising an eyebrow and nodding at the Commander’s plate.

“I don’t have an appetite at the moment.” Genesis leaned back in his chair, distantly pondering Sephiroth’s words and speaking his opinion right as the thoughts formulated in his head. “I know I haven’t really explained it well, or rather not explained it _at all_ , and I’m really grateful for your understanding, but you just have to wait a couple more days. I think by the time we’re on our way to Midgar, I can make enough sense of this whole mess to be able to tell you.”

Staring absentmindedly at those elegant fingers as his companion took the last sandwich off his plate, the scarlet-haired soldier stood up, opening the bottle and pouring it in the glasses that stood on their stems beside their eating sets. “This is really good, you don’t want to miss this.” He said with the tiniest hint of smiles, leaning against the table and bringing the drink to his lips as he waited for the younger man to finish. “Also thanks for putting up with my father…” Realizing that he’d been constantly thanking the other First for the past couple of minutes, Genesis ameliorated. “I think I’d be thanking you a thousand times by the time we set foot outside this house, and I think you’d finally grow weary of that, so if I tried to use them less frequently that doesn’t mean I’m any less grateful.” Seeing the strange expression on the General’s face, he couldn’t help the grin that pulled at the seams of his lips, noting that he was probably overthinking it. Pretending not to have noticed but having the growing grin on his face give him away, Genesis muttered playfully. “ _What?_ ”

He needed more alcohol in his system. Downing his glass, he put it down; taking his plate with one hand, and the bottle of Banora-Red with the other, instead. Making his way toward the door, the Commander spoke over his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get this night over with.” He didn’t wait to see if the General was following him, throwing his head back as he drank straight from the bottle. The other pair of familiar footfalls were a sign that the younger man was still with him, despite what Genesis was coming to believe was the worst decision in his life.

He wasn’t one to believe in superstitions, or else he’d have believed that this house was cursed. The older man wasn’t feeling like his usual self. He also didn’t believe in there being too much of something, so he quickly crossed out the thought that maybe, just maybe he’d been under too much emotional strain recently.

He’d hardly noticed that he’d reached the study until the door closed behind him with a dull thud.

Inside, the room was dimly lit, the positioning and hue of the lights creating the illusion of a lit fireplace that was currently sitting extinguished in the far right corner of the room. On either side of it were two expansive bookcases. By the window there were two cream bergere chairs next to a walnut wood chess table where Mortimer Rhapsodos currently stood, setting up the board.

Right across from his father, on the other side of the spacious study, Rebecca Rhapsodos was sitting in a maroon wing chair, all prim and proper while reading. Looking up over the top of her book at them as they made their entrance, Genesis had to resist the urge to sneer, especially after the cardiac arrest she’d given him some minutes ago.

Leaving his plate on the table beside the other empty wing chair, the Commander went to find one of his many favorite books to keep him sane. He was sure that this was going to be a _really_ long night.

“I hope the dinner was to your satisfaction, General.” His old man muttered oleaginously.

Sephiroth-who was still standing by the door-jerked somewhat when he was addressed, his visage shuttering itself in what Genesis now knew was a defensive expression of neutrality. Likewise, the at-attention stance he immediately adopted was habitual...probably from when he was considerably younger.

“Yes, thank you.” He said flatly.

When Mortimer laughed, the redhead nearly threw the book he was currently holding at his father’s head. Because anyone with a brain in their skull would be able to discern that his joviality was merely a facade, a forced formality in the face of what he saw as an opportunity. As it was, the blue-eyed soldier merely gripped the spine of the tome he was carrying until he felt the glue holding it together pull loose from the binding. Throwing it back on the shelf, he blindly selected something else; stalking over to an armchair in the corner furthest from his sire.

“There’s no need for formalities.” The Head of the Rhapsodos family was saying, still chuckling in that transparent, falsely indulgent sort of manner. “Sit down!” The old man gestured at the chessboard. “I’m quite fond of strategy you know, from what I’ve heard, it seems that we share a passion for design.”

Against his will, Genesis let out an inglorious snort; earning himself a level glare from his mother. _Design_ was a word for it, if you could call lying, postulating for companies with ridiculous amounts of money, and flaunting your wealth ‘design.' Glancing downwards, the Commander flipped open the volume he’d selected and began thumbing through the pages, one ear on the poor excuse for a conversation going on across from him.

“I wouldn’t know.” the General deadpanned. “I avoid the tabloids.” Stepping forward, the silver-haired man slipped into the seat provided to him...his stance rigid. “As for chess, I’ve yet to beat Genesis.”

Oh, he was so adorable. Lifting the book until his face was obscured, the aforementioned man smiled ingloriously. Because Sephiroth had positively _massacred_ him in chess less than a week before. His mirth was short-lived, as Mortimer let out another one of his entirely counterfeit guffaws, the frigidity in it more apparent this time as his watery eyes cut towards his ‘wayward son.’

“He was always a clever one, our Gen.” He sniggered.

“Do stop, Mortimer.” His mother cooed, putting down her book. “You’ll make him blush.”

His jaw popped in cohesion with the force it took to bite back the retort that lunged to the tip of his tongue. Letting his eyes slide to Rebecca, he nearly choked on his rage as she sent him a sly sideways glance.

“Shall we begin?” Sephiroth said tightly, the arms of his chair creaking ominously under the-apparently-vicious hold he’d applied to them. Distracted, the old man turned his gaze back to the General.

“Of course.” Mortimer said indulgently. “As our guest, I insist you take white.”

To his credit, the green-eyed First knew exactly how to cater to his host. The redhead watched with a quiet kind of admiration as the younger man downplayed his moves; careful not to fall too far behind...but not to the point where his skills were flagrantly obvious. He was equally conversant, though he feigned ignorance whenever Mortimer brought up the subject of probable business ventures. It was with great amusement that Genesis observed his father being carefully but firmly rebuffed at every angle he tried. He was starting to think that the evening might not go so terribly after all...until he glanced sideways at his mother. Rebecca Rhapsodos was unusually attentive to the conversation in front of her...specifically, she was attentive to a single individual. His mother's eyes followed Shinra's finest with unreadable purpose; though the intensity of her focus was unsettling in of itself. Genesis didn't let himself dwell on it, his father wasn't particularly encouraging when it came to his wife and her involvement in his 'conversations’, so he reluctantly dismissed his concerns.

He shouldn't have.

The first indicator that things were going to go South was when Rebecca set her book down again and stood, a suave smile creeping across her lips.

“Darling, let me get you and the General a drink.” She shot a dirty look at Genesis. “Apparently, our son thinks he's entitled to an entire bottle.”

Genesis pretended not to have heard that; he knew from experience how she despised being ignored, a trait which unfortunately the Commander shared with her. But from underneath bows of auburn lashes, he watched with amazement as she _sashayed_ toward the drink cabinet near the door, taking some bottle and a pair of glasses before she poured it in. Something inside him wanted to get back at her for what she’d said, to tell her to bring him a bottle of something that could actually give him a buzz, but he decided otherwise. He wouldn’t be like his father.

Shaking his head, azure eyes looked at the machine-typed letters, trying to put them together and make some sense out of it; but ever since he’d opened the book, the syllabary had sifted through his cognition like fine specks of sand before disappearing in the whirlwind of his thoughts and emotions. And then, the click-clack of Rebecca’s heels shattered his concentration as she walked toward the seated duo in front of him. The redhead sighed, giving up.

Mortimer Rapsodos had a frown on his face as he accepted the drink-from the looks of it maybe a whiskey-probably due to a fatal lapse of judgment from the slight upturn of Sephiroth’s lips. And then Genesis noticed those dainty fingers hovering just above the backrest of the General’s seat as his mother circled it, leaning a bit too close as she peered over a leather-clad shoulder to see the board while offering the remaining glass to the silver-haired First.

“Darling, it seems you’re at a disadvantage. The General seems to be every bit of the tactician everyone claims him to be.” His mother said, straightening to her full height. When she looked at him with her green eyes and those vermilion lips curled into a predatory smile, Genesis knew he’d been a fool to think, for _one_ second, that this night could actually go fine; well, as fine as anything went in Rhapsodos household anyway.

The strangest of feelings crashed against the shore of his mentality as the Commander watched those lacquered nails disappear behind the curve of Sephiroth’s shoulder as Rebecca put her hand there. For a moment, he felt like he’d just resurfaced from the depths of an ocean, his breathing too fast for his own liking. What was this? Why had his stomach turned into a boiling concoction of feelings that he couldn’t name? Well, beside anger, and… _fear?_ The urge to throw the book aside and storm toward his mother and yank her hand away was so strong, that his nails were digging into the cover of the book, which was trembling slightly from the force he was holding it with.

Almost instantly, the silver-haired man stiffened. His focus going from the board in front of him to the presence just out of his line of sight.  Practically only days after initiation, recruits were taught to never approach senior members from behind. It was bad form in terms of both respect and individual livelihood. SOLDIER wasn’t exactly to-the-letter when it came to dealing with members with PTSD, and it was common sense that you didn’t sneak up on anyone with considerable rank unless you were suicidal. Thankfully-or maybe unfortunately-Sephiroth didn’t appear to suffer the effects of shell-shock. He did, however, seem to be indecisive about what to do in his current situation.

“Oh, I'm sorry General.” Rebecca commented, the offending hand rising to shift-to _sink-_ just slightly into that mass of moonlight-colored hair. “I didn't ask if you partook...how rude of me.”

This seemed-at least-to shake the green-eyed First out of his reverie. He made as if to pull away, looking distinctly conflicted. Emerald irises flashed to Genesis, and the redhead realized that Sephiroth was panicking. He didn't want to interfere, however, without a distinct physical or verbal cue, so he widened his eyes before letting them cut away to the bookshelf. There was a soft 'oh!’ and he whipped his head back around to see that his fellow First had evidently accepted the whiskey and then proceeded to consume the contents of the glass in its entirety all at once. Mortimer was too busy looking thunderously at the chessboard to notice, but his mother seemed to be weighing her options. She lifted her hand-hovered for a moment...her fingertips barely shy of the nape of a neck only _he_ should be familiar with-before abruptly turning and gliding back over to the liquor cabinet only to return with the bottle.

Genesis knew _exactly_ what she was doing.

“Let me fill that for you.” She purred, plucking the glass from the younger man's hand and setting it on the table. “Tell me, General, how did you and my son become acquainted?”

Apparently, Sephiroth’s logical deduction was not so fantastic as he’d thought, because the smile that spread across his face was far too telling. And as much as it made Genesis want to take him somewhere private and kiss him thoroughly, it was _not_ an expression one wisely adopted in front of his mother.

“We spar...often.” He said quietly, leaning forward...surreptitiously ridding himself of her grasp as he did so. “The Commander is quite talented with a blade.”

Maybe kiss wasn’t the right word... _ravish_ was much nicer. But hell, he needed to stop that. As Rebecca handed him back his glass, she gave him a shrewd look that was entirely not to the redhead’s liking. Apparently forgoing caution, she leaned in again, as if to straighten the decorative figurine just to the right of the board...next to the wall. This put her bosom in a relative position...rather, just under Sephiroth’s nose. Unthinkingly, Genesis gripped the page he was on in one fist; the tear distinctive in the silence of the lavish study. Mortimer startled, lifted his head, his eyes taking in the scene before him.

“You poor thing.” His mother murmured, retreating somewhat and offering her husband an indulgent smile. Mollified, the old man returned his attention to the board. “I know he’s a handful.” She threw the scarlet-haired First a cold glance over her shoulder. “But, of course, that’s why we _love_ him so.”

The Commander considered it a significant accomplishment that the green-eyed First’s eyes never strayed from the game in front of him during this whole ordeal. He did, however, lean back slightly and the tension in his form was so apparent that he might as well have been vibrating. Subtly, the hand on the arm of the chair closest to him lifted, made as if to push his mother away before clenching into a fist. It then shot out to grasp the glass in front of him again and the redhead inwardly sighed with relief. This time, the platinum-haired soldier took a long, slow sip before shrugging subtly away, his eyes once more finding Genesis...the anxiety in them practically burning its way into his psyche via visual transference. Personally, the redhead was _furious,_ Sephiroth wasn’t a trophy to be won...like so many seemed to think. He was an individual; a thinking feeling individual and not a piece of meat. Sephiroth was hounded by female admirers constantly...it wasn’t exactly a secret that his fellow First could have any woman he wanted...women prettier than the one currently trying to get in his pants.

His _mother._

Pressing his lips into a tight line, blue flames were dancing in his eyes as he held Sephiroth’s gaze; Genesis snapped the book shut, letting the crumbled piece of paper in his fist fall to the ground as he rose from his seat, his long strides carrying him quickly to the stage his mother had so deviously set up.

A _pleasant_ smile stretched across his lips before he pressed them gently to Rebecca’s cheek, having to bite his tongue as her cologne invaded his senses; it just brought back so many memories… “I’ve missed you too, _mother_.” Placing a hand against the small of her back, Genesis pushed her none too gently toward the door. “Why don’t we catch up in your drawing room and let father and Sephiroth _finish_ their game?” He was forcing the words through his teeth, not at all caring that it sounded more like an order than a question.

Her heels scraped against the floor for a moment as she struggled, but Genesis was having none of it, and finally for the sake of decorum Rebecca complied, trying to keep up with his quickening pace as they left the study together.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The Commander asked, his voice lowering to an irritated hiss.

“So, it’s true.” His mother sniggered, her green eyes glinting maliciously as she looked up at him.

The scarlet-haired soldier was conflicted. He’d never liked his mother’s games, and as harmless as her other schemes had been, this one involved Sephiroth, and Genesis couldn’t allow that. But right now, it seemed that without lifting a finger, Rebecca Rhapsodos had beaten him. Again. Denying it would just make her bolder. And the longer the silence dragged on between them, she’d become more certain.

“You Are Married, _mother_. And Sephiroth is how many years your junior? 20 years? What happened to decency, modesty and all the bullshit you forced me to learn, huh?” The First tried to control his anger, but still traces of it seeped through his words. Briefly, he wondered if the silver-haired soldier could still hear them, enhanced hearing and everything, but he didn’t care enough to pursue the thought. Emotions were roaring through his veins just like the falls back in Mideel, and suddenly he wanted to take the younger man and somehow teleport back there, go back to that memory of Sephiroth lounging on the rich soil, with his head on Genesis’ lap as they enjoyed the quiet of each other’s company.

Rebecca laughed, as if he'd said the funniest thing in the world.

“Decency and modesty?” She echoed mockingly, one hand on her hip. “ _You_ lecturing me about who I sleep with?” A scoff and he sincerely wanted to strike her. “That's rich.” She tilted her head. “He's so very pretty up close.” She cooed. “I can see what the girls in town are all going on about.” A smirk curled over rubicund lips. “And his hair.” She lifted her hands, rubbing her fingers together and closing her eyes. “Mmm, so _soft._ ” Her lashes lifted in an expression of mock-innocence. “Surely you can't expect your father and I to have married for love, and I get so _little_ attention from him.” She pouted. “You can't blame me for desiring the attentions of such an obviously virile man.” A lengthy sigh. “And I'm sure he's a _consummate_ lover...all those muscles. No sweat, no rough handling...not the bad kind anyway.” She winked. “You know what I mean darling. No piggish grunting while he lies between your legs.”

Genesis was so shocked that he was speechless. There were just so many alternatives running through his head, and he didn’t know which one to choose. Goddess knew that it was taking every ounce of his willpower not to hit her, or maybe strangle her delicate neck. Maybe he could shove her down the stairs and pretend that she had somehow fallen. Realistically, the First knew that he shouldn’t feel as infuriated as he felt now, hearing his mother speak those words about the General; because that was probably the subject of many other fans’ fantasies and daydreams back at Midgar, the HQ, and probably the whole _fucking_ Gaia. But Genesis was angry. No, not angry; enraged, livid, boiling, _indignant_. He was seething like a pressure cooker about to explode.

Pivoting on his heel, and miraculously maintaining his balance on the steps, the redhead cradled the back of his mother’s head in his hand, clasping the other against her soft soft lips with enough force that if he pushed a little harder, there would be bruises forming on her painted face. “Stop it! Just _stop_ , for Goddess’ sake! Have you gone mad?! I have no qualms about the number of people I sleep with because I’m not _committed_ to anyone; unlike _you_. If you want to be a whore, why don’t you just get divorced from him, huh? But wait a minute... you already _are_ one. Marrying him for his wealth, it just sounds more legal and _honorable_ , doesn’t it? I know the games you like to play _mother_ , but keep Sephiroth out of it.” Widening his eyes minutely, he added murderously. “Let this be a fair warning.”

Instead of hearkening to his very real threat, the woman in his grasp grinned, and it was like the grin of an apex predator.

“I knew it.” She repeated with a kind of vile satisfaction. Stepping back, she made a study of his face. “How does it feel, I wonder?” She murmured, her smile widening. “To be in love with someone so utterly superior to yourself?” When Genesis recoiled as if slapped, she laughed and turned away. “We should get back.” She added over her shoulder. “You know how your father likes his audiences.”

It took him a moment to follow her. Because despite how much he knew about his mother, despite the fact that she’d always been cruel and callous, he had always wanted her affection. Age didn’t change that, _time_ didn’t change that. He could shove it deep down, somewhere unseen and veiled in a thick sheen of hatred and derision...but the little boy inside of him who had once hoped to be loved so long and so honestly crumbled into dust. There weren’t any tears, he had his pride...but it still hurt. He knew his father was not a kind man or a good man...that Rebecca was merely a figurehead in his regime, and that like anyone she would of course desire some type of affection...but he didn’t expect her to sink so low.

When the redhead had gathered himself enough to return to the study, it was as if he’d never left...as if the events of the past forty-five minutes had not occurred. Sephiroth was still sitting at the chess table subtly beating his father, and his mother was sitting in her chair reading her book. She gave no acknowledgement to his entry, and he returned the favor. The soft ticking of the clock on the wall seemed overly loud, and the books he’d so loved as a child seemed an insidious extension of the bitter pall that now hung over him like a blanket. More than ever he wanted to leave, to have made a different decision in terms of coming to Banora. Taking it back now was pointless, but they could at least find some sort of solace nearby. Gillian might let them stay, and he was fairly sure he could find some camping gear if he looked for it. Picking up the book he’d left, Genesis sank down in the chair he’d vacated, but again found little desire to read it. Instead, he cast his gaze towards the chess table again, hoping to clear his somewhat-racing thoughts.

Sephiroth was looking at his mother like he wanted to tear her limb from limb.

The redhead did a double-take, because he didn’t think he’d ever seen such a viciously bloodthirsty expression on the General’s face before. In battle, his visage was usually focused but never particularly murderous. The younger man enjoyed a good fight, but he was conscious of the lives it cost to achieve victory. Here, now, his fellow First appeared to be entertaining purely violent thoughts. With a sinking feeling, Genesis realized that his discussion with Rebecca hadn’t exactly been private in terms of mako-enhanced auditory senses. Sephiroth would have heard all of it, and he apparently wasn’t taking it very well. The thrill that rose up at the thought that the silver-haired man apparently didn’t like his mother in the least was short-lived. Because if she said or did anything else remotely stupid he was positive that the green-eyed First would act upon it.

“...Are you alright m’boy?” Mortimer’s voice was hesitant, uncertain. The scarlet-haired man watched as his companion startled, his gaze returning to his host before looking down at the board. “I do so hate that painting you know, I can’t fault you for disliking it...but Rebecca insisted it was the latest in Junon abstract.”

And Genesis wanted to laugh hysterically, because evidently his father thought that Sephiroth was glaring murderously at the painting _behind_ his mother. And while it wasn’t exactly comic relief, it dispelled the sense of imminent doom that had been slowly creeping up the back of his neck. Lifting his book to hide the smirk that was threatening to encompass the entirety of his face, the Commander busied himself with staring blankly at the pages as his fellow soldier cleared his throat.

“It’s hideous.” He said flatly.

* * *

It’d been somewhere around ten when his mother had excused herself to return to her chambers; of course, needing her _beauty_ sleep. Genesis had already been halfway through his second bottle before he’d politely informed his father that it was getting _late_. However, Mortimer Rhapsodos had completely dismissed his words, carrying on with their second round of chess until the clock had struck eleven.

When his sire had yielded, thanking the silver-haired man for a game well-played, they’d all finally retired upstairs; menservants showing the General to the guest room, while the Commander had stood over the threshold of his old bedroom, watching, before closing the door behind himself.

There wasn’t anything special whatsoever about his room. A four door wardrobe with an adjacent desk, all white wood from the Dumbapple trees, and his bed, which he’d been lying on for the past two hours, sleepless.

Genesis was restless. To say that it was because of all the words he wanted to tell the green-eyed First would be a lie. There was this desire, this urge to be rebellious, singing in his blood-and the redhead wondered if it was the alcohol-making him think, feel and act like a teenager. The idea he’d been mulling over in his brain for the past couple of hours made him grin like an idiot every time it resurfaced, and he had to push it back down yet again. He’d caught himself listening to the white noise of silence that had settled over the mansion more than a dozen times; like the present moment. So he decided that enough was _enough_ , and he was going to do it.

Tying the ropes of his silk robe de chambre, Genesis forewent the slippers so he’d make as little noise as possible. Slowly, he opened the door, biting back the curse that threatened to spill over his lips as the hinges creaked slightly when he closed it behind him. The redhead was certain that no one had possibly heard that, well, except his fellow First. His bare feet padded faintly against the marble floor, and for a moment he thought that maybe putting Sephiroth’s room as far from his as their house accommodated was another one of his mother’s schemes. Finally arriving at the door, he tried it and thankfully it was unlocked. Even if it had been, there was nothing that could stop him from picking it. With a self-satisfied smirk curling his lips, he entered.

In terms of being a guest room; the General’s temporary quarters were still lavish. The walls were painted a soft, somnolent blue the color of a summer sky, and the trimmings were what he knew to be genuine gold leaf; following intricate swirls of white molding that framed the windows and slithered upwards to create a maze-like pattern on the ceiling. To the right were the windows; synonymous with the rest of the house and swathed in midnight-blue velvet curtains. The bed was canopied; dark mahogany contrasting with the shock of white sheet where the younger man had turned them down on one side. There was the glitter of Masamune’s sheath in the corner next to the bathroom, but the redhead didn’t dwell on it too long.

The man he was seeking was-apparently-just as unable to sleep as he was. Long, silver hair glittered under the light of the waxing moon; pale and ethereal as the skin that it encompassed. Sephiroth was curled up on the shelf the window provided, his gaze fixated on the stars above. Shirtless, the green-eyed First wore only his leathers; his feet bare as they flexed every so often against the white wood of the unyielding sill...long legs drawn up and clasped at the knees. Genesis smirked as his eyes landed on a mostly-empty bottle of whiskey next to the fainting couch. Evidently, his fellow First was just as eager to forget the night as he was. From where he stood, he could just-barely see the hint of a flush high on dusky cheekbones; indicative of perhaps some level of inebriation, though likely nothing too extreme. As if sensing his gaze, the General abruptly whipped his head around; alarm the main focus of his expression until he discerned who it was. When he did, he appeared to sag with the force of his relief.

“It’s you.” He muttered. “Good.” An unsteady hand reached back to swipe for the whiskey. “I have-” He stopped when he realized the container in question was empty. “-I don’t have anything” He said in a bewildered voice before letting it drop to the floor again. He appeared to struggle with himself before turning back to the window. “Rude.” He mumbled, as if berating himself.

Despite his irritation, Genesis couldn’t stop the affectionate smile that replaced his smirk. It’d be just too easy to blame all of this on the one or two bottles of Banora-Red he’d drunk previously, but probably just as insincere. It was just too hard to stay mad at the other occupant of the room. It had always been, even before they’d become intimate. Raising his hand, he tried to stifle the short laughter that escaped his lips against the back of his palm. If only Angeal had been here with them. The redhead couldn’t seem to be able to stop himself as he imagined the sleep deprived raven-haired man at the breakfast table tomorrow. That would have made it the three of them.

For a moment, he suddenly felt like he was the same teenager who’d just left Banora. So many times, he’d wished for the impossible; for the silver-haired man to have been with them here, even as ridiculous and impractical as it sounded. He wondered if that’d change anything. That he’d still be standing here in Sephiroth’s room in the middle of the night. It reminded him that he hadn’t even spoken to his childhood friend about _it_ , whatever _it_ was between them. The Commander needed to remedy that as soon as they got back. But right now, he had more pressing matters that needed his attention.

“Someone told me they’ve had enough of taking the backseat.” The scarlet-haired soldier paused, his fingers deftly untying the rope as he tilted his head, schooling his features into neutrality as best as he could. “It seems you quite enjoy being the damsel in distress, my General.” Genesis let it fall open, revealing a wealth of smooth pale skin as he sauntered toward the other First.

Sephiroth was suddenly not slouching anymore.

Hungry green eyes swept the length of the Commander’s body; lingering here and there as those emerald irises grew thin...arousal dilating the pupils. Slowly, the younger man stood; his form a shadowed silhouette...haloed in platinum moonlight until he moved away from the window. The whisper of footfalls against ivory carpet was a soft backdrop to the suddenly overloud beat of his own heart. Sephiroth’s approach was sensual and yet somehow predatory; all muscle and fluid movement and ravenous observance. Genesis carefully quelled the thrill that rose up to meet his obvious interest, keeping his visage blank as his fellow First drew level with him.

“ _‘Damsel in distress_?’’” was the low, murmured exhalation over his lips. “Is that so?”

The redhead had opened his mouth to reply when large, warm palms closed over his waist; just above his hips; thumbs swiping downwards over his stomach before he was tugged forward in a somewhat auscultating motion. He acquiesced to it, allowing the younger man to close the distance until they were but inches apart. Here, Genesis could feel the heat of Sephiroth’s skin...could envision the warm slide of epidermis against epidermis. Gradually, deliberately, the General lowered his his head; until the fall of his hair was like ribbons of silk over the blue-eyed soldier’s shoulders and down his back. He could feel the soft exhalation of breath against his throat...the soft but unmistakable undertone of ragged restraint. Those clever, seeking fingers clutched at his sides, digging into the soft flesh of the skin just above his backside before skimming the length of his torso.

“You’re the one coming to me.” Sephiroth purred. “So who’s the damsel, I wonder?”

Genesis smiled mischievously, his azure eyes following his own fingers as they hooked in the waistband of Sephiroth’s leathers, thumbing the button but never opening it. For a moment he closed his eyes, giving himself over to the sensation of those hands traversing the expanse of his heated skin before looking up at those hungry emerald eyes through his lashes. The older man ‘tsk’ed, shaking his head as he whispered. “That’s not the way things are done here.”

His hands edged their way toward the younger man’s hips, brushing against the smooth skin before he gripped them, pulling Sephiroth closer without ceremony. Drawing nearer still, he let his breath dance over the alabaster column of the General’s throat, watching his pale face with hooded eyes as he whispered, his voice low, ragged. “I tire of saving your lily white ass.” The man in his arms jerked back a little, which made him smirk as he trailed a path down one broad shoulder with his lips. “Tell me, how did it feel to see me writhing under somebody else?” Rolling his hips against the green-eyed soldier’, slowly, languidly, Genesis exhaled deeply.

The immediate stiffness in the younger man’s form was sharply evident. The Commander sensed-at once-the silver-haired soldier’s anger and confusion. And why wouldn’t he be confused? The redhead had just referenced something that had happened what seemed like ages ago. But he wasn’t exactly in the mood for a quiet, romantic romp between the sheets tonight. No, with his father’s pompous words and his mother’s biting comments; he wanted exactly the opposite. Genesis wanted to be claimed, to be taken...hard, fast, and unforgiving. And while Sephiroth wasn’t exactly easy to stir into a sexual frenzy; once there, he was sure that the experience would be memorable.

Those hands gripping his waist tightened almost imperceptibly, that head of silver hair pulling away so green eyes could study his face. Tossing scarlet locks, the older man met his gaze with a challenge, smirking in a sly, suggestive manner that straddled the edges of boredom and lust. A strange, distant sort of coldness passed over beryl irises; borne out of uncertainty...out of insecurity. Genesis had long ago discerned that the General wasn’t exactly your picture of confidence. He’d never felt the desire to take advantage of it, but in this particular situation it was key to his success. After about a minute of tense silence, his companion spoke.

“...Is this…” The platinum-haired First seemed to be searching for a word. “‘Roleplaying?’”

“Roleplaying?” Auburn eyebrows drew in slightly, pulling away from Sephiroth’s hold to slowly circle around him, azure eyes watching the younger man with anticipation, a fiery fascination that couldn’t be tamed. “Pray tell, who are we _roleplaying_? You as the great demon of Wutai, and me as Lothario Genesis Rhapsodos?” His tone was sharp, biting. The redhead wondered as he was facing the silvery curtain that hid that muscular back, if the man in front of him would chop off his hand if he were to touch him now. That didn’t stop him, however, as he put it right where his mother had earlier. “Do you enjoy it, being the subject of so many people’s fantasies?” Genesis continued walking, letting his fingertips trail down a sinewy but lean bicep as he came to face the other First, a devilish smirk curling his lips, azure eyes boring into green pools heatedly. “Do you think you’d enjoy if we incorporated someone else between us, to watch as they _pleased_ me?”

As he spoke, Sephiroth’s expression shifted from tentatively apprehensive to fully enraged. And despite a lingering sense of uneasy anticipation, despite the fact that the redhead knew this might have consequences for him later, his mind was playing a continuous feedback loop of _yes._ Initially, his spirits sank...because by the time he’d fallen silent the younger man had put nearly a foot of space between them. He resigned himself to the General’s intolerant egress, because even though _he_ was willing to play dirty, that didn’t mean his companion was. The air between them might as well have been packed with shards of ice; the atmospheric tension so thick you could have sliced it with a knife. Those graceful, pale hands that had cupped his face so tenderly and so often were balled into fists...and cerise lips were curled into a disgusted sneer.

So it came as a surprise when Sephiroth laughed.

It wasn’t a pleasant laugh. It seemed to bubble up from the dregs of his being; ugly and tinged with a dark rage suffused with resignation. Silver hair fell over one shoulder as the younger man stepped back again, putting more space between them. Then-almost faster than Genesis could follow-the General was yanking off his leathers. The redhead tried not to focus on the expanse of pearlescent skin revealed to him as the younger man performed the most furious strip-tease of the century. What he absolutely _could not_ ignore was the fact that the man in front of him was still hard, despite the fact that he’d just tried to insult the pants off of him. Raising a scarlet eyebrow, the Commander mentally relented. Okay, maybe he really had insulted the pants off of him.

And then he was flying.

The glory of a naked General turned into a blur of blue and white as he unwillingly traversed the space between floor and bed at a dizzying velocity. He hit the mattress and the air seemed to explode from his lungs, the canopy a dark...midnight colored expanse above him as he lay there and tried to catch his breath. He didn’t have much time to recover himself, however, because Sephiroth was crawling over him like a long, lean, _angry_ shadow and that was sort of nice...especially considering that the full weight of him was threatening to plunge him through the mattress and onto the floor. Genesis tried to arch into it, to at least fight it, but a large, unforgiving palm was placed in the center of his chest…inexorably pushing him down. Looking upwards, he was accosted with burning green eyes that were just on the right side of inebriated. Maybe he hadn’t thought this through, because Sephiroth was extremely aroused and extremely pissed and he didn’t know exactly what that entailed considering they were both naked and horny. The snarl that pulled at those aquiline features was at once foreboding and exhilarating... and as moonlight-colored hair threatened to smother him; the redhead shivered at the sight of sneering lips hovering over his own.

“I’m loathe to quote you in a situation like this.” Sephiroth growled, his fingers digging into the older man’s left hip. “But Genesis, I am _sick_ of your _shit.”_

Genesis couldn’t resist the sudden guttural laugh that escaped him, throwing his head back and going lax for a minute before clutching Sephiroth’s hips in a vice like grip. He wanted to leave bruises, long weaving scratch marks that’d fade as soon as they were made. Snarling as he tried to push the man on top of him away, to switch their places, the older man drew close, feeling the hot spurts of air against his lips as the silver-haired man breathed.

“ _You’re mine._ ” Azure eyes widened momentarily in warning as Genesis claimed ferociously, arching up from the mattress, trembling slightly from the power he had to exert to counter the General’s hold against him. It seemed-for a moment-that the younger man might relent, but his grip only tightened.

A blazing, infernally heated mouth slanted over his, like the silky slide of a branding iron. The hand not currently applying dead weight to his chest tangled in his hair but-surprisingly-didn’t yank or pull. Instead it cupped the back of his skull to pull him closer, even as a long leg was wedged between his own...pushing until he was forced to part them in order to avoid a bruise the size and shape of a kneecap on his thighs. And he _really_ hadn’t thought this through because did he have lube?? Was Sephiroth angry enough to go that far? A soft whisper in the back of his mind said no, probably not. But his fellow First was certainly furious enough to exert dominance, which was kind of rare but not exactly unpleasant. That being said, he wasn’t going to go down without a fight...he didn’t belong to anyone. Genesis didn’t kiss back-not exactly-but he did let his teeth sink into the soft flesh of a bottom lip...the snarl he received in response was just on the edge of pain but he ignored it.

If the General wanted to fight dirty, he was going to give as good as he got.

 _‘But you started it.’_ an insidious voice whispered in the back of his mind. The Commander ignored it, pushing it aside in favor of squirming harder to free himself from the hand that was trapping him between it and the mattress. Sephiroth’s erection was currently digging into the apex where hip met thigh...hot and hard and subtly slick but he was _not_ going to get distracted by the impressiveness of the individual above him. The younger man’s lips gave up trying to supplicate his and the redhead hissed as they latched onto his throat, biting just on the side of too-hard before sucking in a way that he knew would leave a bruise. Because apparently his companion had no qualms about backing up his ‘your mine’ statement with equally relevant marks. Some part of him thrilled to it...some aching, still-desirous part of him not damaged by the events of the day wanted desperately to be reminded of his worth but the risk of letting that iota of romanticism free was too high. Especially here.

Genesis could not afford to come undone, could not afford to be swept off his feet and utterly ravished, no matter how much he wanted to be. Rebecca’s words kept echoing in the back of his mind, stronger than the voice that cautioned him that the consequences for this would be far-reaching...that the pieces of him he was throwing onto the floor weren’t singularly his own but the pieces of the man currently trapped in a haze of desirous, indignant, and _righteous_ anger above him. And the guilt he felt at such an acknowledgement only served to fuel his frustration, his resentment at always being seen as somehow less...somehow imperfect. As his thoughts raced, Sephiroth’s touch gentled, apparently taking his stillness for a kind of furious relent. The hand that had so tightly gripped his head was now sifting through his hair in a gesture that was borderline tender. Once-bruising lips traced the contour of his jaw, tongue flicking out before retreating. The hand on his chest traveled upwards and to the right...settling carefully over his heart, as if trying to discern his mood through its beat.

The older man knew he shouldn’t have done it, especially when Sephiroth was trying to be understanding, to give him the tenderness his whole existence in Shinra had been lacking, but he couldn’t stop or he’d lose his sanity. Lashing out in an infinitesimal moment, the redhead threw the silver-haired man on his back beside him on the bed, watching the halo of moonlight tresses spin and spill over the sheets around the younger man’s head. Genesis knew he wasn’t thinking clearly, anger, resignation, lust, jealousy and so many more emotions were simply hindering his thought process, the effects of his drinking not included. He knew if he spoke, there was a one hundred percent possibility that he’d say something that’d have lasting consequences for both him and the General. So, he decided to shut himself up, bringing their lips together in a searing kiss; biting, licking the seams of that perfect mouth insistently until he was given entry.

The fingers that were tangled at the back of Sephiroth’s head pushed him closer, and closer still, because Genesis simply couldn’t have enough. He wanted to be intoxicated to the point that he couldn’t think at all. Maybe the poison of their rough coupling would be heady enough.

The younger man complied as the Commander half dragged-half pulled him into a sitting position at the edge of the bed, moaning against those lips as he pressed their erections together, his hand brushing over the apex of their needs with firm strokes, his breathing settling in a new rhythm. The utterance issuing from the redhead’s mouth was met with a groan; thin and ragged...teetering on the edges of a bitter sort of resignation. Genesis’ knuckles were enclosed in long, calloused fingers as Sephiroth acquiesced to his touch, head bowing somewhat, brows drawn together in an expression that was at once focused yet starkly melancholy. The General’s hips snapped roughly; long, lean and sinuous...pushing his arousal flush against the redhead’s own as he exhaled shakily. The green-eyed soldier’s other hand snaked between them; over the jut of his hip to squeeze his backside...soft at first, then roughly. Genesis made a sound that seemed halfway between a growl and a plea, arching into the touch until he was straddling his fellow First’s lap...legs on either side of powerful thighs as their mouths met again.

The soft, wet tip of a tongue traced his lips and he parted them to allow his companion entry, surging upwards against a relentless tide of sensation until Sephiroth was forced to relinquish his hold on his ass to bring his arm back to prevent them from falling over. And he _wanted_ this, wanted it like he needed air to breathe. It wasn’t the most ideal of situations, but it’s not like either of them were blushing virgins and there was definitely the sense of charged urgency between them necessary for what he wanted to do. He was upset enough to allow it, desperate enough to disregard the fact that this was something intimate and not necessarily right for their current state of rapport. So when his companion’s hand left their joined erections to wander down the base of his spine...trace the wayward dip between and still further he encouraged it; rocked against the fore and middle finger that rubbed against the furrow of his cleft. Pressing...seeking and _yes,_ good-

The arc of auburn lashes fluttered against his cheeks, his moist lips parted against the smooth texture of Sephiroth’s face; he felt like he was melting under the silver-haired man’s touch and ministrations, pleasure blooming inside him, encompassing every sense, every thought, and Genesis just wanted to keep going, to push for more as he rocked against his own grip and his companion’s fingers. The slight pain he felt, sobered him for a miniscule moment, enough to whisper between heated puffs of air that ghosted across his lips, almost pleadingly, urgently, incoherently. “Lube... Seph… Where-...”

His companion’s other hand came to rest against his ass, the strong pale thighs he was currently straddling flexing under him, and Genesis surprisingly understood what Sephiroth was going to do. This wasn’t going to work. The scarlet-haired soldier knew that if the younger man stood up and carried him to get whatever he’d asked of him only moments ago, they’d never reach it; probably going to end up fucking on the floor or maybe by the wall, even the edge of the window seemed like a good option.

The Commander groaned, letting go and nearly stumbling face first to the ground as he tried to walk toward the black rucksack near Masamune. His whole body ached at the loss of contact, a shiver running down his spine as the cold hit his naked heated skin, his fingers fumbling with the zipper and a litany of colorful curses spilling from his tongue as he made a complete mess of Sephiroth’s stuff before finding what he was looking for.

His actions were blurring together, not making much sense as one moment he was facing the silver-haired man who sat on the bed, a strange resigned look plastered across his features; disheveled, breathless, flushed. And the next, Genesis was upon him, smacking their lips together and leaving the lube inside one big palm as his hands cradled each side of Sephiroth’s face. The younger man looked ravishing, making his blood sing in his veins, clouding his senses. And the redhead didn’t care anymore; if he’d had a semblance of control up until this moment, it was up in the wind. Some voice in the back of his head was warning him, that there was something wrong with his fellow First, but he simply couldn’t hear it under the rush of his blood and the overloud beats of his own heart. Regardless, the silver-haired soldier was responding ardently to his kisses; moving with them in a way that was fully cognizant of what they were doing.

The soft *pop* of a cap was a needless acoustic but the Commander shivered regardless, tilted his hips to accommodate better access as he mouthed over the graceful arch of the younger man’s neck. Sephiroth’s breathing was somewhat unsteady as he pressed a careful hand against his chest, pushed him back somewhat until he could look into his eyes. Impatient, Genesis took his mouth again, inhaling deeply as he licked his way into the soft, wet cavern between his lips. Cold fingers slithered between...crept forwards until they were nudging the rim of his entrance...applying pressure slightly before beginning a slow, circling motion punctuated by soft nudges inwards. Even as they kissed, green eyes stayed trained on his visage, and the older man realized that they were searching for any sign of discomfort, of reluctance or resistance. The General’s other hand wrapped around his cock to begin a series of slow, firm strokes that definitely caught his attention but wouldn’t bring him to orgasm any time soon.

By the time a finger breached him he was almost angry again. Because Sephiroth was sure taking his sweet time about it. His trespass was almost too easy, so thorough was the initial preparation. Genesis pushed into it, biting back a deep groan of satisfaction at the sensation of diffusion...of partial fulfillment. Once fully seated, the General’s pace tapered off again...grew slow and lazy and searching. Glaring downwards through a sea of thick, scarlet lashes, the redhead made an impatient noise, tugging on a lock of silver hair until the younger man huffed and added a second finger; flexing it experimentally before smirking and crooking dexterous digits; jabbing upwards in a thrusting motion that sent a spiral of shocks down his spine. The exclamation that left the Commander’s lips was exhilarant, somewhat tinged with an edge of surprise...lilting on the shores of bliss and abandonment.

Three fingers and the canopy above Genesis was swimming. Long, slow, and _more_ and the sounds coming from his mouth were not entirely in his control anymore. If Sephiroth didn't get on with it he was going to explode from preparation alone and that would be incredibly juvenile of him. _'Consummate lover’_ indeed. But no, he was here and she was not. Here with the man evidently determined to turn him into an inchoate puddle of lust as he thrust his fingers deep and claimed his lips. Emerald eyes looked up at him through heavy lids as the redhead jerked back-mindless-into the invasion; his mouth opening stupidly for a moment before he remembered what he was doing.

“Good?” Sephiroth murmured.

The deep velvety voice was a buoy in the sea of pleasure he was drowning in more and more, bringing him back to the surface if only for a brief moment for the redhead to lean his forehead against the crown of Sephiroth's head. A ghost of a smile fleeted across his lips as he caught his breath, surprisingly managing to formulate words out of his pleasure-addled brain. “You’re going to have to masturbate alone if you keep going like this.”

A dark chuckle was his answer, and Genesis’ breath hitched in his throat as those fingers withdrew from him, his toes curling against the sheets. Splaying his hand against the younger man’s chest, the fiery Commander pushed him back, watching through a fringe of auburn tresses as his companion leaned against his elbows, cocking an elegant silver eyebrow as those catlike irises returned his gaze.

A smirk slowly edged its way to his lips as he stroked Sephiroth’s cock with his now-slick hand, wanting desperately to see those lips parted in a silent moan, a gasp, his name, before descending onto it. As much as he’d wanted to never take his eyes off his companion’s face, he couldn’t stop his lashes from fluttering closed, a moan escaping his lips at the sensation of being filled, a mixture of pleasure and pain as he buried the younger man’s erection inside him to the hilt. Thinking about paying back the torture the General had forced him through, Genesis started moving, agonizingly slow; teasing. His quadriceps were quivering slightly under the strain as he kept his pace, gazing at the man below him with a look bordering on lust and adoration.

Finally, he was rewarded for his efforts as the perfect bow of those lips parted, ever so slightly, a low rumble passing them, a waterfall of molten silver cascading over broad shoulders to the satin sheets as the General put his head back, a look of euphoria flashing across his flushed complexion. All his restraints were broken. Genesis knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. Quickening his rhythm, strong hands found purchase over his hips, clutching firm enough to leave bruises that would be gone by sunrise. The scarlet-haired soldier threw his head back, the name of his lover falling from his lips like sacraments, growing more desperate and rising in volume as his free hand closed around his own throbbing erection.

The canopy above his head was like a wave of the sea he was now under, his breaths coming in short spurts and faster with each subsequent thrust until his body seized, going taut as he felt his consciousness float on the water’s surface.

The only thing that alerted him to the fact that Sephiroth tumbled over the edge soon after was the strength of the grasp at his hips...the breathless, gasping exhalation of his name. One arm lifted, took his palm and pressed it to quivering lips as the younger man lost himself...cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. The finer details were lost to Genesis, swept away on a river of consummate bliss as he rode the high of his orgasm before slowly...gradually coming back down.

When he did, he was surprised to see Sephiroth utterly still; his arm flung over his eyes, his mouth turning down somewhat before he managed to school it into a thin...flat line. Opening his mouth, the redhead tried to think of something to say, but anything he came up with sounded shallow and self-serving. Before he could apologize, before he could even say the General’s _name,_ he found himself being bucked off the younger man’s lap. Yelping as his head hit the pillows, Genesis watched with a kind of despairing acceptance as the silver-haired First rolled away from him, yanking the covers down and crawling into them with singular purpose. The green-eyed soldier didn’t say a word once he was settled; keeping his back to him with a stiff sort of stubbornness.

And Genesis found that he couldn’t get upset, couldn’t even get angry about it. The singular truth was that he’d insulted Sephiroth and then manhandled him into sex. While they might have both _enjoyed_ the sex, it hadn’t exactly been initiated on emotionally level terms. Both of them liked fighting with the other, but there was a difference between bickering and literal vitriol...and the older man had been full of it. Staring at the pale, graceful slope of spine before him, Genesis was angrier than he’d been when they started...but he was angry at himself. Transferring his gaze to the canopy above them, he wondered if there was a way he could ever make up for this.

Outside...beyond the tall windows and sweeping gables...it started to rain.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Sephiroth was angry.

Standing on a balcony in the hall to the left of the guest room where he was staying, the General leaned against the railing and tried to center his jumbled thoughts. Maybe angry wasn’t the right word. He was...disappointed. Disappointed in Genesis, certainly; but also disappointed in himself. In terms of the redhead currently sleeping where he had left him, he simply didn’t appreciate the idea that the Commander still saw him as a competitor...or at the very least, ‘flawless.’ He was-painfully-aware that the concept of being immaculate was somehow different to his fellow First. The older man saw infallibility as a flaw; more than likely because those who had always been infallible in his youth were terribly, monstrously evil. Despite this, it didn’t excuse what he’d said, or what they had subsequently done.

Sephiroth blamed himself to an equal degree because he could have said no.

He’d never wanted their first time to be charged with so many negative emotions, and it spoke volumes to what drew him to their relationship in the first place. Combat was an integral facet in terms of their rapport, and while he consciously was avoidant of it, some part of him hearkened to it...considered it necessary for the continuation of whatever they were doing. He knew he loved Genesis, but he obviously didn’t love Genesis enough to not violate him when he was angry and upset. And Genesis had every right to be upset. Sephiroth was used to being talked about like he was a slab of meat, but for someone’s mother to use him in a verbal attack against her son...he felt...disgusting. It had taken every facet of his self-restraint not to run her through when she came back to the study. He irrevocably _hated_ Rebecca Rhapsodos, and there was nothing-as far as he was concerned-that would change that.

Maybe it had been the alcohol.

Running his tongue over teeth that had a distinctly cottony taste, the silver-haired man knew that was a cop out. It wasn’t the alcohol. He’d been far more inebriated than he’d been the night before and still performed to the highest standard of his ability. The wine Genesis had been drinking wasn’t strong enough to excuse the things he had said. Under different circumstances, he might have let it go...but it had been the Commander’s idea to come here in the first place. _He_ had dragged him here in order to do who-knows-what and then reverted to his old ways of self-defense in the form of flattery that was really thinly veiled depreciation. As much as he loved Genesis, he couldn’t condone that. Wouldn’t condone that.

Sephiroth could tolerate a good many things, but he still had his honor.

And honor dictated that he couldn’t let this go. If he did, it would open up too many pathways for him to be taken advantage of in the future. He’d been kind to Genesis, defended him, tolerated him...and it had backfired. So where did that leave him? He couldn’t _do_ casual sex, not with the man he was currently with in any case. Maybe if he’d not inconvenienced himself by falling in love, it would be different, but that was not the case. They’d taken things slow, which was unusual for both of them, and in the process he’d slowly but surely given away his heart. Every time the redhead so much as _looked_ at him he felt the stirrings of something soft, sweet, and incomprehensibly painful in his chest. He’d never felt this way before, and it was a terrible thing to face the fact that he might be garnering such feelings on his own. At the same time, Sephiroth didn’t think he could walk away from this. Even if he did, those feelings wouldn’t go away.

And he couldn’t do that to Genesis.

A small, pathetically hopeful part of himself knew that the older man was fond of him. The scarlet-haired soldier was careful with him in ways that he’d never seen him be with anyone else. If he were a self-pitying person, he might have assumed that it was guilt...but he knew better. Genesis had deep, complex feelings for him that he wasn’t ready to face. And at the time that he’d realized it he’d felt exhilaration, but now he only felt resignation. Because while it was clear that the Commander cared for him, it was also clear that situations of emotional distress also made it easier for him to lash out at him without fearing the consequences. In this particular situation, both of them were at fault.

...But it still hurt.

Because as Genesis writhed over him, as he gasped his name in the throes of pleasure...Sephiroth had only been able to look at him. At the fall of that fiery hair as it brushed the nape of his neck, at the pale pearlescent heave of his chest...shimmering under a faint sheen of sweat, at the sapphire pools of passionate eyes and those white teeth as they sank into lips that could be both kind and cruel in the same breath. He had always been more partial to men...it had never particularly bothered him. Sephiroth was a creature of strength who appreciated strength. But there was no denying that _Genesis_ was _beautiful._ And he was beautiful in that aching, ethereal way that roused him in places that left him weak to his whims.

Sighing, the silver-haired soldier leaned forward, until he was somewhat dizzied by the vertical drop before him. Putting his head in his hands, he let his fingertips dig into his forehead until there were half-moon crescents peppering his brow. These faded quickly when he averted his gaze to the green expanse of lawn before him. He didn’t know what to do; and he’d never been in a situation where he was so terribly indecisive. Sephiroth feasibly couldn’t leave Genesis, because it would be a lot like leaving a part of himself with him, but he also couldn’t continue as they’d been. In some ways, he understood what the redhead had been talking about-in Mideel-when he said he could only take. But he also understood that it was a mentality and not a veritable truth. Genesis would take as long as he thought he could only take. He was enmired in the concept that he was irrevocably vile and while the younger man had tried to show him otherwise, it seemed that in the worst of moments he simply reverted back to the same mental concepts.

Self-hate was not new to him.

He was painfully aware of what it was like to loathe oneself. But at the same time he’d never let such loathing affect how he treated others. Sephiroth was not generally sociable, and he wasn’t exactly what anyone would call pleasant company...but he wasn’t cruel. Cold, yes...distant, certainly...but never cruel. And maybe it was Genesis’ upbringing that had imbued him with such cynicism, but surely Angeal had shown him that kindness and dedication existed _somewhere._ The General shifted as his T-shirt rode up, shoving the hard plaster of the decorative railing against his lower belly before he pulled it down again. Narrowing his eyes, he watched as a lone doe made her solitary way across a bed of flowers. Occasionally, he received the irritating idea that he gave off the impression of not being overly-bright. And he wasn’t necessarily versed in human niceties like _smiling_ or _casual conversation._ But he was far from stupid, and he fully understood the need to give and receive in return.

Genesis did give.

Watching as the doe began to studiously eat the lettuce in what appeared to be a sprawling vegetable patch, the green-eyed soldier carefully amended his mentality. The Commander gave in terms of the physical and the material. He’d given Sephiroth a place to recover from Hojo’s torture, and he’d given him a memorable experience in a beautiful place. Genesis had given him his body, and-when considering his track record-by doing so repeatedly and often, had given him the security of his fidelity. He grudgingly acknowledged that in terms of the redhead’s tendency to fornicate with everything that walked on two legs that was acceptably attractive, that was giving quite a lot. And maybe the older man gave him those things because that was what he’d been taught to give, because he’d been repeatedly shown that those were the only things that mattered.

He knew he was making excuses.

Watching as the sun crept over the spiraling, purple dotted arch of the Banora Whites, he absentmindedly rubbed his shoulder. It was hard not to, when his mind crept back to the haunted, eternally unhappy expression on the redhead’s face whenever he appeared to stop and think. Sephiroth desperately wanted to rid him of that unhappiness, but he wasn’t-apparently-clever enough to know how. So for now, he’d be more careful with how much he invested himself in what they were doing. Because if he dug into this any deeper and Genesis decided that he was too much of an emotional liability it would destroy him.

There was the soft creak of aged hinges as the french doors behind him swung open. Without turning around, the silver-haired First knew it was the subject of his contemplation. At this point, he could identify Genesis merely by peripheral awareness. The redhead had a singular presence; hot like fire, cold like winter...musky, masculine, and familiar. His approach across the exterior flagstones was slow and hesitant...indicative of his guilt. The younger man wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted to talk to him, but at the same time he didn’t want him to go away. Long fingers wrapped around the banister next to him...fingers that had gripped him so ardently as they made love...and then angrily when they’d argued before. Cerise lips were parted as sleepy ocean-colored eyes stared across the lawn with an expression of contempt. Those lips could rip him apart or put him back together…...and they wouldn’t even have to touch him. Shivering, the General reverted his focus to the grass far below them, waiting for the older man to speak.

Just as he’d done only moments ago, Genesis leaned over the railing, cradling his face in his hands before those long fingers tangled themselves in short auburn tresses. There was a long exhalation before the older man straightened somewhat, leaning his elbows against the balustrade, before gazing at the horizon.

“I know we have to talk about this…” The Commander turned to look at him, and right at that moment, Sephiroth looked away, deciding to stare at the vegetable patch the doe had chosen to have its breakfast. His fellow First was right, they needed to talk about this. The more time they spent together, the more the silver-haired soldier had begun to understand how those rules he had set at the beginning were not going to be enough. Whatever this was, this thing that they’d started building together -if it wasn’t another illusion, another misunderstanding that the one building anything, was only him, and maybe, it wasn’t the same for his companion-, was going to crumble eventually. They couldn’t keep meeting each other halfway.

“Can we…” Those blue eyes darted to the hall beyond the door and back, before he continued. “Go for a walk?”

Anything would be easier to look at than those sapphire pools that were watching him expectantly. The white nondescript plaster seemed like a good choice but that was before Genesis’ hand crawled along it, tentatively brushing against his, thumbing his little finger in slow, soothing motions. The gesture was so harmless, something that they probably had done a million times even before they started this; sitting together in each other’s apartments, the older man reciting some new poem that had sparked his interest while Angeal prepared something in the kitchen. Everything had been so easy back then, and for a moment, the same part of him that believed the fiery Commander was fond of him wished that things could be as easy as it had been.

“Think about it.” A hand squeezed his shoulder gently, and he could feel the warmth of those luxurious lips through the fabric covering his shoulder joint. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

It was _hard_ to let him go.

Harder still to stand there alone with a dizzying sense of confusion and an edge of panic. Because Sephiroth didn't know what to expect from him half the time, didn't know if he was going to be greeted with affection or harsh words...tenderness or tenacity. It was difficult because a part of him had gotten used to letting everything go, had become habitually lenient and forgetful. That was equally as hard to accept, though there was a small part of him that insisted that it didn’t really matter. He knew-instinctively-that he ought to ignore that part of him, because it was a part that could get him seriously hurt. That didn’t change the fact that it was difficult.

Because there was still a large portion of him that associated Genesis with warmth and gratification. And while that was still a large facet of who he knew that he was, the General didn’t know what it would cost him to hang onto that. Running a trembling hand over the place where the redhead had touched him, Sephiroth forced himself to relent. Because he would not self-preserve to the point of his companion...that much he couldn’t do. But he still had to guard himself against what might or might not happen. Steeling himself, the silver-haired soldier turned and exited the balcony, taking a moment to gather his locational bearings before re-entering the guest bedroom to quickly dress.

Once properly attired, he left once more; this time in search of the Commander. It took him awhile to remember how to navigate the countless corridors that the mansion provided. He was commonly fairly consistent when it came to recalling navigation, but the events of the night before had distracted him somewhat. Once on the ground floor, he had to hunt around for a bit before arriving at what appeared to be Mortimer Rhapsodos' office.

To his sincere relief, Genesis was there, but he was bent over the drawer behind the desk and didn’t appear to notice his entry. To announce his presence, Sephiroth cleared his throat...barely repressing a smirk when the redhead jumped and nearly banged his head on the underside of the table.

“Goddess! You scared me!” His voice was irritated but hushed, as though he was afraid someone would hear them, or enter the room any minute. Something glinted in his closed fist as the redhead quickly but quietly closed the drawer. Rushing to the bookcase toward his right, Genesis knelt down. There was something about the way his companion moved, some haste, some nervousness that didn’t sit well with the green-eyed soldier.

Looking at the door and back at those calloused fingertips that were searching for something under one of the shelves, Sephiroth was about to ask him what they were doing here when he heard a muffled click. Swiping aside a vertical slat of wood from the base of the bookcase revealed a safe inside. The object that he’d seen in the older man’s hand -which turned out to be a key- was slipped into a lock while Genesis turned a dial, mumbling something like _‘Open for fuck’s sake’_ and _‘Come oon’_. The silver-haired man was grateful that before his second-in-command could reach his more colorful vocables or lose his temper enough to melt the whole thing, the lock opened.

Peering over the thatch of red, Sephiroth could see various papers; ownership of property, cars, some factory here in Banora, numerous investments, a marriage certificate, and an ad-...

Quickly snatching the last one away and tucking it under his shirt, Genesis pushed everything back inside so quickly that it was as though none of the events of the past couple of minutes had ever happened. The older man could have possibly leaped behind the desk and put the key back in the drawer because in less than thirty seconds, he was back beside Sephiroth, a shaky hand looping around his forearm as Genesis pulled him toward the door.

“Let’s go.”

Sephiroth obeyed, mostly because he wanted to get out of the office just as badly as the redhead did. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this was the Head of the Rhapsodos family’s personal space. Getting caught there could land him a court-martial, and he was not in the mood for that at the moment. When they had made it several feet away, down the hall and to the left, the silver-haired man tugged firmly on the hand currently grasping his arm. Genesis gave him a somewhat wild look, shaking his head and yanking him forwards again. The younger man struggled for a moment before acquiescing with a kind of exasperated irritation, letting the Commander lead him out of the house and onto the lawn like a dog on a leash.

“Are you going to tell me what those are?” He hissed, poking at the approximate location of the documents his fellow First had shoved into his shirt. He growled under his breath as they ducked behind a thick overhang of Banora Whites. “Genesis, _tell_ me we didn’t come here to steal paperwork, please.”

“We aren’t _stealing_ anything.” The older man forced through his teeth. It was surprising that despite his rather angry demand, Genesis reacted rather calmly. Which, knowing his companion, was enough to tell Sephiroth that something was off.

Green eyes were trailing the edge of the hard surface the documents made against the Commander’s abdomen when he noticed those long fingers were fidgeting with the fabric where it was out of Genesis’ pants. As though having followed his line of sight, blue irises darted toward his hands, before shoving his thumbs and his shirt under the waistband and keeping his hands there against it. “It’s not important. You and I needed to talk about last night, so let’s _talk_.”

Sephiroth was reluctant to let it go, because it was obviously important if the older man had still felt it necessary to grab the documents while he waited to have a heart-to-heart with him outside. And while he wasn’t really concerned about his own reputation, he was concerned about the consequences taking what appeared to be classified documents could have on the blue-eyed soldier. Grudgingly, he acknowledged that yet _another_ part of him felt resentful of being left in the dark...of not being privy to all of the Commander’s proclivities at this point. He wanted to be a part of it, and not purely because of professional interest, but because he didn’t like the idea that the redhead was trying to do something possibly risky on his own. But that- _that_ was possessiveness. And he had vowed to never try to possess anyone. As Hojo’s ward, he knew what it felt like to be owned by someone, and he would never force such feelings on another human being...especially one that he loved.

Immediately, the sensation of reluctance in terms of sharing his thoughts returned. Because while Sephiroth had always been honest about his feelings with his fellow First...he couldn’t exactly say the same in reverse. Genesis was eternally close-mouthed regarding his opinions in terms of their relationship. Not necessarily regarding how he felt the younger man was acting, but in terms of his own actions. And the green-eyed soldier was very reluctant to open up any more than he already had without receiving some form of reciprocation...because he was painfully aware of the fact that he was nearly enmired to the point of no return. Love was not a casual emotion, especially for him, and while he was okay with not receiving it in return, he was not okay with harboring one-sided feelings with someone who was continuously determined to put him in a negative space. Sephiroth was realistic but he wasn’t masochistic. Taking a deep breath, he spoke.

“I need to know if you meant what you said,” He said flatly. “About feeling that I’m somehow...superior to you.” Raising a hand when the Commander opened his mouth to reply, he continued. “I made a poor choice last night as well, and for that I want to apologize. You were upset and I took advantage of that.” When Genesis looked incredulous, he shook his head. “Maybe not intentionally, but if I were an honorable man-and I wasn’t-I would have stopped. I wouldn’t have let it get that far.” The silver-haired soldier looked away. “To be clear, I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it. You were…” He swallowed against the bitterness that rose in his chest. _“Magnificent._ But it still wasn’t something that I wanted...under the circumstances.” He closed his eyes. “I’m not romantic, and I’m not particularly saying I wanted something romantic...I just wanted something that wasn’t angry or resentful. I didn’t stop it, that’s my failing. But I need to know that you don’t see me as a competitor, at least not in terms of what’s between us.”

Genesis let out a short hollow laugh, before raising an eyebrow. “Honor, Seph? You’re starting to sound like Angeal.” Silver locks swayed gently as Sephiroth shook his head, already sensing where this conversation was heading, which was probably nowhere. Opening his mouth to protest against the remark, the redhead pressed two fingers to his lips, suddenly standing very close. “Hear me out first.” Sapphire eyes were gazing at him as the older man continued. “It was my fault. I started it, and I just didn’t stop to think if it was getting too far.” There was a long pause as the man in front of him looked down at the packed earth underneath their boots. The thumb that was gently, minutely tracing his lips held him back from speaking. “I’d wanted to provoke you… I admit, that was the worst way to go about it, and the worst things I could have said, but then…” The hand under his chin fell to his shoulder, the fabric wrinkling as his companion pulled on it in a somewhat involuntary gesture.

“Then her words got to me, and I just lost it.” Genesis continued in a rush. “You didn’t take advantage of me. I did, so you have _no_ right to apologize. I enjoyed it, everything that we did. I don’t regret it, because that’s just not what I do and because if I hadn’t said them, we wouldn’t have ended up doing the things we did.” Finally those blue eyes were looking back at him, and there was just no schemes, no games, nothing in them. Just sincerity and truth. For a moment, Sephiroth thought that for once, he could see the older man for who he really was; in his beautiful broken entirety, with no veils to keep them apart and hide behind. “But I regret the resignation, the sadness I saw on your face. And I’m truly, utterly sorry about that. I-...” It seemed the fiery First wanted to continue, but then closed his mouth, mumbling a _‘Never mind’_.

“It's...fine” Sephiroth murmured. “You don't have to apologize again.” He hesitated, caught on the edge of indecision before bringing his hand up to cover the one resting on his shoulder. Stroking his thumb between index and ring finger, he clasped their cupped palms, lifting them 'till he could brush his mouth over the soft skin on Genesis’ wrist, letting his lips linger on the delicate, blush veins before resting his forehead against trembling knuckles. “Thank you.” He said, suddenly feeling indeterminably weary...as if he'd been holding his breath for hours and only now been permitted to breathe. “For sharing with me.”

The morning air suddenly felt less oppressive; not as weighty and more relaxed. This was enough-Sephiroth thought to himself firmly-enough for him to move forward without the fear of self-flagellation. He had known that it was Rebecca's words that had driven his fellow First to such extremes...but he'd needed to hear it...to understand that Genesis understood the gravity behind what he had said. Understood it without feeling the need to laugh it off, go on the offensive, or change the subject. Now, he could focus on the passionate facets of the night before without feeling like it was a wholly negative experience. He could cherish it as a memory, and a pivotal point in their relationship without the dark pall that had previously clung to it like poison.

“I love you.” Sephiroth murmured after a long moment. “I know you already know that, but I wanted to tell you regardless.” When Genesis laughed, he smiled. “Did you have any plans for today?” His eyes strayed to where he knew the papers the older man had pilfered were sequestered. With difficulty, he refocused his gaze to cerulean irises. “Maybe something that didn't involve your parents?”

“Yes.” Genesis looked toward what Sephiroth assumed was the direction where all the huts and other houses clustered together around the main square. “Although, we can’t seem to get away from meeting parents, I assure you Angeal’s mother is simply nothing like mine.” The redhead was smiling fondly, and then his hands clutched the fabric at his abdomen, as though in pain. His expression fell back to the same cold neutrality, if not more on the sad side as the corners of those lips twitched downwards. “There’s one more thing.”

Pulling his shirt up, still clutching the fabric in his fist, the older man took the documents out. Opening it enough to have a quick glance before closing it shut, he exhaled a long deep sigh. In the same amount of time it took for the redhead to have a peek at the papers he was holding, Sephiroth could see as Genesis somehow deflated; like he was going to collapse into a puddle of clothes and disappear. Those azure eyes had fallen shut, the unruly mess of brilliant tresses lolling almost imperceptibly backwards when a hand reached out to grip the silver-haired man’s forearm. Viridescent eyes widened in worry, because a healthy First Class Soldier never felt light-headed enough to be losing balance, let alone _faint?_ The tug on his arm was strong, but the General planted his feet firmly, holding the other’s elbow in his palm to steady his second-in-command.

“Genesis?” Sephiroth hated how his voice was riddled with worry.

There was no answer, but the fact that Genesis was still standing upright and not dropping to the ground in a boneless heap was somewhat slightly reassuring. There was a minute nod, the short locks of hair swaying gently across the older man’s features as the hold on his arm relaxed a little, but didn’t let go. Those cerise lips that had gone pale moved into a barely audible form of what Sephiroth figured as _‘Am fine’_ , before a trembling hand offered the documents toward him. Still, the Commander wasn’t opening his eyes as he whispered. “Here. Read this...”

Sephiroth felt that he shouldn't. They were personal, after all...from the mere reaction the man in front of him had had. But at the same time he recognized that Genesis was trusting him with something monumental... something vital...he was coming to him in a moment of extreme distress...and he couldn't say no. Taking the papers from shivering fingers, he grasped them in one hand and took the redhead's palm with the other; clutching it tightly when he at first tried to pull away. He didn't do it because he felt obligated to, but because he wanted to. Looking down, he began to read.

_To those concerned,_

_The documents enclosed detail the legal proceedings regarding the adoption of G, who will be hereafter known as Genesis Rhapsodos, per request of the_ _adopters_ _. When attending the transfer tomorrow, please make sure to have all relevant items of identification and citizenry upon your person, and the papers provided here filled out in their entirety._

_Necessary funds will be transferred to those in question in terms of financial support, and in acknowledgement of the support of the participants for their generous past endeavors concerning the successful progression of our partnership._

_It is within the understanding of both parties that this is a closed adoption, and no further contact will be made with the party giving up custody to the Rhapsodos family. It is also understood that any gross concerns in regards to G should be fielded to Dr. Hollander, and the urgency of such concerns assessed._

_In terms of liability regarding physical well-_

The General stopped reading-flipped to the next page and the pages after that which were much the same-before letting the documents drop to the ground, cupping Genesis’ cheeks, urging him to look at him; refusing to acquiesce when he didn't...and when that blank, disbelieving gaze met his, he spoke.

“Genesis.” He murmured. “I'm sorry.”

And he meant it. He did. With every facet of his soul he meant it, because no one should have to realize at so late an age that their parents were not their parents...that their true sires were nameless and faceless individuals they had never met. And his heart _broke_ for Genesis because he could not fathom how much pain he was in...how agonizingly shattered he was by such a realization. The strangled sound that came from the back of a normally social throat was frightening. Because the man before him looked like he was falling apart and he didn't know how to stop it.

“Listen to me.” He whispered. “Listen to me Genesis, this doesn't change who you are.” When that scarlet head of hair began to shake, Sephiroth growled. “It doesn't! It doesn't change you _here_ -” He lifted a palm to press it against the Commander's heart. “-You're still you. They didn't teach you anything that made you _you_. Nothing that makes you...so...so _stubborn_ and smart and fascinating.” Leaning forward, the younger man gazed into aggrieved blue irises...close enough until all he could see was sapphire. “Nothing that makes you _mine.”_

A sharp broken breath that was somewhere between a gasp and an exhale broke past those lips, and those blue blue eyes were so troubled that Sephiroth felt like he was drowning in them, before they disappeared behind those long lashes. A hand had crept up between his and Genesis’ heart, nails digging in the fabric so hard that the silver-haired man could swear he heard the textile tear, as though the older man was trying to claw his heart out so maybe everything would be less painful.

The only thing that reached Sephiroth’s mind in that moment was to put one hand against the small of his companion’s back, cradle the back of his head before drawing him as close as it was physically possible. Because despite everything that was right and wrong and different and similar between them, the green-eyed soldier could feel Genesis’ pain as though it was his own. For a moment, it seemed like, despite all his misgivings and thoughts, they could be just one; one with each other. So, the silver-haired man held onto him, trying to be an anchor so that maybe, just maybe the Genesis he knew would stay; would not vanish like everything else in his life into thin air through his very fingertips.

And then, the Commander went utterly still in his arms. It wasn't a normal kind of stillness. Sephiroth picked up on that almost immediately. The redhead's arms went limp and his head lolled to the side, bumping against the apex where arm met shoulder. Pushing him back, the younger man was greeted with the sight of empty cerulean eyes. For a moment, he was afraid he had somehow hurt him...but there was no sign of blood or bruising and he hadn't heard the tell-tale crack of a broken bone. It wasn't a distracted or pained kind of empty in any case...there was a sense of vacancy...of conscious absence...as if Genesis had simply stepped out of himself and left his body behind. The General whispered his companion's name...quietly, softly, like a supplication born from the sweetest of sighs. _Fear_ rose up in him when the older man didn't move, didn't respond... didn't acknowledge that he was there. The panic that suffused him was virulent, almost sour in its taste over his tongue.

What if he'd suffered a stroke? What if a blood vessel was swelling in his head...blocking off access to autonomous movement, speech, and thought? What if Genesis was trapped in his mind, screaming for him but he couldn't get out? _What if he was holding a brain-dead corpse?_ The low, disbelieving moan that left the silver-haired soldier’s lips was painful in its intensity. Was the shock of the Commander's discovery enough to kill him? Was that even possible? Sinking to the ground, Sephiroth felt a kind of twisted revulsion at the ease with which the redhead sank with him. Genesis would never be pulled anywhere easily. Genesis was stubborn and vivacious and full of resistance.

“Gen.” He murmured. Then, louder. _“Gen!”_

Nothing.

Those empty blue eyes stared at the sky, tracing something high above that he couldn't see. That brilliant red hair shivered somewhat in the breeze...like a melancholy flame. Limp fingers were draped over his forearm...clammy with a cold sweat; and the heartbeat beneath the older man's shirt was slow...so slow. It seemed like hours that he sat there... cradling a shell. He didn't know what to do... didn't know if he could trust Genesis’ adoptive parents to care for him. If he knew where Gillian Hewley lived, he’d have picked the Commander up and gone straight to her...but he was ignorant of her locale. And so he sat there, shivering and stupid and useless with what-so he assumed-was a body. A breathing body but still a body.

And it was a little bit like falling to pieces. As he pressed his mouth against the lax softness of a throat, trying to force the grief that was rising there back down...he reflected that it was a lot like being a mirror cast to the floor...feeling the dizzying rush of the fall and then shattering into pieces. It hurt somewhere deep... somewhere unfathomably deep... squeezing and twisting until it became a slithering black cloud of despair that was thick on the back of his tongue like the spread of rot. And he was _scared._ Scared of being alone, of being left behind...of the individual lifeless in his arms being sucked into the Lifestream without even a goodbye. It left him cold..hollow and gasping against Genesis’ jaw. Because he couldn't-he _-he couldn't-!_

And the redhead jolted forward, his heart that had been so sluggish going full _thump-thump-thump_ at probably a hundred and twenty beats per second. Genesis’ breathing was quick and shallow as he looked around, almost bumping their heads together before pulling back and out of his embrace so abruptly as though he’d been burnt, falling back to the ground on his elbows with a quiet gasp.

It seemed like time stretched in front of his eyes as those azure irises widened with disbelief, the older man’s features trying to reassemble themselves in what would probably have been an expression of cold indifference, or maybe it was the same anguish the redhead had felt what seemed like an eternity ago; but it frayed at the seams, the mask crumbling to pieces before even getting into place. The way Genesis was looking at him, was like a fallen cornered animal; scared, confused. Something clicked inside Sephiroth’s head, like some puzzle piece that hadn’t fit before because he simply hadn’t looked at it carefully enough;

_It was the same look he'd seen at the falls._

His initial reaction was impotent rage. Because what was Genesis even _thinking_ by not choosing to share something like that?! He could have fallen over the waterfall and he'd have never even known it! He could have blacked out on their way to Banora and rolled out of the back of the truck! It could have happened last night! When they-! He hissed something that was halfway between antagonization and pain. Forget telling him, he should have called Hollander. Immediately. They should have gone back to HQ. None of this should have happened.

Sephiroth tried to calm himself.

Because getting angry at the Commander right now was pointless. He was frightened, confused, disoriented and if he started yelling he probably wouldn't even know why. Moreover, if Sephiroth started yelling he didn't know if he'd be able to stop. Neither of them needed that, neither of them needed the attention of anyone who was currently nearby. Closing his eyes, the General gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. Fine. _Fine._ This was what he had to work with, he was going to work with it until it was appropriate for him to stop working with it. Putting his fury somewhere small, distant, and quiet; he focused instead on his fellow First. Carefully, he moved his arms away so that the redhead wasn't given the impression of confinement. He kept them loose at his sides, looking far more calmly than he felt into sapphire irises.

“Gen.” He said evenly. “It's me, Sephiroth. You're okay, you're fine, you're safe.”

Genesis backed away slowly, his elbows shuffling against the ground where he had fallen. His eyes were never leaving his, studying him despite his obvious panic; his pale lips silently moving over and over in what seemed to be _‘I did it again, I did it again’_ before getting his voice back.

“N-N-No! No! No! No!” The Commander rolled around, scrambling to his feet shakily. “This shouldn’t have happened here! You didn’t have to know! _We_ don’t deserve this!” By the time he was finished, Genesis had put at least a good ten feet between them. “You don’t deserve this!”

The General didn't follow, not because he didn't _want_ to, but because he knew it would only make the man in front of him run away. Instead, he leaned forward, towards the redhead but not in an aggressive or looming manner. Because now he understood. The older man hadn't refrained from telling him out of a twisted sense of pride, he had refrained from telling him because he didn't want to cause their relationship any more problems. Because the evening before their hike they had bitterly fought and he didn't want to ruin their time in Mideel. And it had been kind, impersonal, sensitive, and _sweet_ and Sephiroth ached to hold him but he knew it wouldn't be received well.

“Listen to me.” He said quietly, his voice trembling with the amount of emotion he was trying to restrain. “Please. Genesis, you're not damaged. For all we know, this has been due to stress.” He gestured at the papers lying near him. “The fight before we hiked, the documents...this all points to emotional stress...extreme distress.” The younger man's chest ached even more as he realized that the spell before the current one must have been brought on by worrying where he was, and then worrying how he was. “Gen.” He said desperately. “I'm so _sorry_.”

Sephiroth wanted to weep because this told him what he'd been missing in the background; which was mainly a hysterically stressed second-in-command. And why hadn't Genesis just _talked_ to him about this? Why didn't he at least seek him out for comfort?

“I don't care what package you come in.” He said firmly. “That's all physical...what matters is you, what you intentionally say and do.” The green-eyed First swallowed. “And I love you.”

And the redhead struggled with himself in front of his beryl eyes, those blue lakes swirling with the need to accept what Sephiroth was telling him, those eternally closed windows to the older man’s soul were now left open, unguarded. And his companion took a step forward, which appeared to have been involuntary, a move stemming from some subconscious part of him, before Genesis realized what his body was doing of its own accord, and dragged his boot back against packed earth and grit. Anguish was twisting his beautiful features, those elegant eyebrows drawing in as luxurious lips formed around a firm “No.”

“You can’t love me. You don’t deserve this…” The fist clutching the fabric covering the Commander’s chest was trembling with the effort behind it. “I’m an orphan…” There was a bitter hollow laugh. “Ironic isn’t it? I’m just another broken Shinra property, but instead of being Hojo’s, I’m Hollander’s… That’s why they’re so eager to put me out if I become a liability… I’m expendable, a nobody…” Cerulean eyes darted up to his green, pleading; but for what, Sephiroth didn’t know, or at least did not know until the older man continued. “You have to leave while you can… I’m not sure if you’ll be able to later if you stay now… So, _please_ …” But Genesis didn’t continue. He just looked at him, with those big bright eyes that meant the world to him, and _urged_ him _silently_ to _stay_ ; to not leave him like everybody else had. And the silver-haired man could understand it all now.

So when Sephiroth took a step forward and another and then another, the older man didn’t run away; he’d stood there looking lost. And the moment they converged at that point in the space-time continuum, everything ceased to exist around them. Heated lips were pressed against the hollow under his ear as Genesis hid his head under the thick veil of silvery locks, those strong hands clutching his shirt and pulling him close and closer still as though they could somehow fuse into one bright star.

“But I do love you.” The General muttered, somewhat awkwardly. “Telling me to go away, running away... it's not going to change that.”

Once again, there was a stretch of silence between them. The birds in the thick, arcing canopy of trees had fallen silent during their exchange; but they resumed their chatter as a sort of tenuous yet tender refrain bloomed between them. Genesis was still tense, but not quite so much as before...and the hands that had gripped the younger man as if uncertain if they ought to push him away were now clutching him as if to keep him from letting go. Pressing his cheek against scarlet locks, the younger man took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Letting his thumb card through the sparse gathering of crimson hair at the base of Genesis’ neck, Sephiroth murmured something sweet and nonsensical, earning himself a soft hitch of breath in return. After some time had passed, he spoke again.

“You're not expendable, Genesis. Nothing and no one could replace you.” Lifting his other hand, the silver-haired soldier grasped the older man's chin, tilting his head up until they were looking at each other. “Being a product of a system isn't a happy facet of existence.” The General continued. “But that doesn't take away from the amount of joy you give me, even in moments like this.” Leaning forward, he brushed his lips across an indecisive mouth. “You're not a statistic.” He murmured, thumbing the soft hollow just below the redhead's ear. “You're in a league entirely your own.”

Those words earned him a shudder that ran down the redhead’s spine, the hands bunching up his shirt tightening momentarily before letting go reluctantly, one settling on his shoulder and the other next to his heart between them. Azure eyes were looking down, lingering on somewhere between where his collar parted and his jugular notch started. “I…” There was a short pause, and now Genesis was gazing at his lips, something dark flashing in his eyes before disappearing too quickly to be noticed. “I’m sorry. For breaking down in front of you. You didn’t have to see that.” The lush curve of the older man’s lips pressed into a tight line before he spoke again, a little softer this time. “You don’t have to deal with this shit _all the time_.” And despite those words, there was a flame of happiness kindling inside the blue as they rose to meet him, and Sephiroth couldn’t stop the tiny smile tugging on the corner of his own lips.

“I-...” Genesis opened his mouth, but the silver-haired man’s chuckle interrupted him, the deep baritone of his voice almost velvety soft as he whispered a ‘Shut up, Gen.’ playfully before ensnaring the older man in a gentle kiss. Those calloused fingertips settled at the nape of his neck, a thumb brushing short silver locks there, and the redhead responded to him, opening his mouth against his as a moan got lost somewhere in between.

It was-Sephiroth discovered-incredibly difficult to keep his emotions in check after having them on tenterhooks for so long. The Commander was warm, open, and unusually yielding against him, and it took every facet of his mental and physical restraint not to pull him to the ground and make him gasp his name. The green-eyed soldier kept the kiss chaste; though it was more for propriety's sake than anything.

When the virile, intoxicating heat of arousal began to pool in his belly, he pulled away to take a series of deep breaths. Sapphire eyes turned up just slightly at the edges, and the ghost of a smile flickered across Genesis’ face...though it was more short-lived than he'd have liked. The older man's expression was quietly, appreciatively knowing...settled on the edge of a wan tolerance and affectionate amusement.

The redhead made a smug sort of noise in the back of his throat and the General leaned in once more, brushing his lips against an alabaster cheek before he was pulled into a tight embrace. Despite the fact that he hadn't added another verbal apology to the mix-and Sephiroth was fairly sure he might have had to bite him if he did-the manner of his touch was distinctly supplicative...it gave voice to the emotions that Genesis often struggled to put into words. Letting his fingers grasp the soft cotton of the Commander's shirt, the silver-haired First smiled secretly into his shoulder.

“You said something about meeting Gillian Hewley?” He queried at length. “If you're still up for it.”

The redhead laughed against his ear, a short bright sound, before he pulled back. Genesis’ long fingers trailed slowly against his elbows and lingered there for an infinitesimal moment before he separated them. Dusting his clothes as he made his way toward where they had left the documents on the dirt, he spoke while bending down to take them. “Yes. I wished we could’ve forgone meeting my parents and stayed at Gillian’s instead.” Straightening, there was the same ghost of a smile on those lips as his second-in-command sauntered toward him, pointing in the direction they were presumably headed. “Let’s hope she’s made some dumbapple pie.”

Instead of going along the path that serpentined under the green arc of orchards, Genesis guided them through the farms, where once in a while workers acknowledged their presence. The Commander explained to him in an unnaturally patient voice how every farm was different in terms of irrigation systems, the fertilizers needed for different kind of plants that were being sown. It was fascinating to hear what the redhead was saying, because if the older man had never decided to join SOLDIER, he’d have ended up being a man well-versed in agriculture.

Sephiroth could see the rest of the houses stacked together about three hundred feet to their right, and from the looks of it, Genesis was taking them to Angeal’s house the long way. They had fallen into an agreeable silence as they walked. Aside from the creak of fallen stalks of reaped crop beneath their boots, or the flutter of them returning to their upright places as their hands parted the wheat to make way, birds were chirping in the distance once in a while.

There was a playful laugh, and only seconds later, Sephiroth was rolling on the ground, a lithe strong body coming to cover his before long fingers brushed his long silver locks away from his face. The scene that greeted his eyes was breathtaking. Genesis was _smiling;_ and it was an open, carefree smile...of a type that he’d never seen before. The sapphire blue of his eyes were like gemstones nestled behind fiery auburn lashes turned bronze by the overhead sun. For a moment, the younger man could only stare in wonderment, because he _resented_ not seeing this type of smile before. As if sensing the appreciative scrutiny behind his gaze, the Commander flushed slightly, dropping his head to nuzzle the curve of his fellow First’s neck...but not before the man in question was privy to seeing it.

Briefly, he acknowledged that they’d landed in a wheat field, or so it appeared. Dusky golden heads of grain swayed over their heads...like a sea of flax-colored waves. Then-when his companion had gone reasonably still on top of him-he tipped him over sideways and quickly flipped to pin him down. Genesis gave a delighted laugh, and a light-hearted scuffle ensued; with one of them briefly trapping the other beneath them before losing the upper hand. Somewhat guiltily, the silver-haired First acknowledged that some poor farmer was going to miss a small portion of his crops but distraction quickly won over depreciation. It was maybe fifteen minutes before the Commander had him thoroughly pinned-or so the redhead thought-and had swooped in to merge their mouths. Smirking, Sephiroth allowed it, feeling the rush of both adrenaline and arousal in his veins before he bucked upward; throwing the older man off and looming over him for a hard, deep kiss that made his toes clench involuntarily.

It was some time before they got up, choosing to lay side by side in their hidden gilded jungle to watch the clouds pass by. It was peaceful...somehow intimate...though not exactly in a physical sense. It was intimate in a mental sense...with a clear delineation between ardor and affection. When they returned their focus to the road, Sephiroth had bits and pieces of wheat stuck to his hair; and Genesis spent about twenty minutes picking it out...all while laughing hysterically. Gillian Hewley lived in a small cluster of houses perched on top of a hill. From the looks of it, most of the residents were tenants of the outlying farms. The dwellings were of cotter house design; with saltbox roofs and weathered wooden exterior paneling. It was a far cry from the almost excessive majesty of the Rhapsodos’ Manor, but Sephiroth privately thought it was more welcoming.

It was near midday, and Genesis had started muttering here and there about lunch. It had brought to the forefront the fact that neither of them had really eaten anything for breakfast, and the General was suddenly worried that perhaps they should have brought something along. He was loathe to take food from someone who-as far as the Commander had told him-didn’t have much money in the first place. By that time, however, they had turned into a well-worn flagstone pathway dotted here and there with assorted flowers and pleasant smelling plants whose origin escaped him. In a wild fit of creativity, Sephiroth presumed that these must be herbs. Genesis had been explaining them to him on their way there...and one of the most prominent facts about them was that they usually had a very distinctive olfactory impression. He didn’t have time to dwell on it, because they were already drawing level with a four-panel half-moon door that was a rather familiar shade of red. Decorated with a wreath of what looked like grapevine, the brass handle glittered in the late-morning light. Smiling, Genesis stepped forward and raised a hand to knock.

“Come in.” A soft spoken voice answered when the Commander knocked before opening the door. Gillian Hewley stood a little further inside the house, the lines around her grey eyes deepening as her world weary face broke into a smile. “Genesis!” She called, opening her arms to hold the scarlet-haired soldier. Closing the door behind him, Sephiroth entered the bijou house a little hesitantly. There was a wooden dining table in the center over a probably handwoven rug. Nothing about the house was distinctive. On the right was a wooden display cabinet with three to four drawers at the base. On the far right wall, was the kitchen, a sink and what he could only guess as a wood stove. There were some more photos hanging on the wall behind Angeal’s mother, all of them about two young boys; one with black hair and the other, red.

“You must be Sephiroth.” A little startled, Sephiroth looked in the direction of the voice; Gillian Hewley let go of Genesis and offered him a dainty hand. Grey eyes were watching him with warmth as she continued. “My son has written so much about you.”

This surprised him. Angeal spoke fondly of his mother, and it was hard for the General to imagine himself being even close to a primary subject in anything he would write to her. They were colleagues, but they were far from close friends...though he supposed the definition of a ‘friend’ varied from person to person. That being said, he didn’t know anything about what you wrote to mothers in the first place, so he supposed that it didn’t particularly matter. Shaking himself from his contemplative thoughts, the silver-haired soldier stepped forward and took the proffered appendage; lifting it so he could press his lips against Gillian’s knuckles.

“It's very good to meet you.” He said sincerely, relinquishing his grip. “Angeal speaks very highly of you.” He turned his head while the woman in question recovered herself, blushing furiously. Casting a nervous glance at Genesis, he was relieved to see that he was smiling genially, if mischievously. “You have a lovely home.” He added, then flushed himself; unsure if such a statement was appropriate. “I mean, from what- _they-_ have said-” He stopped, positively certain he was making an absolute cretin out of himself.

To his relief, Gillian laughed.

“Oh, from what _those_ two would have you think, Angeal grew up in a dilapidated shipping container.” She chuckled, throwing a mock-stern glance at the Commander. “But thank you dear you're too kind.”

This time, Sephiroth _did_ blush...because no one had ever called him ‘dear’ before, and in such an endearing and openly affectionate manner. Some small, melancholy part of him answered to it...ached for it in a way that he couldn’t fully explain. Because he had never known any shape or form of motherly affection, and to receive it so wholeheartedly and unexpectedly was painful in a way that he wasn’t ready to acknowledge. Dimly, he was aware that sapphire eyes were watching him in a way that was a little bit too knowing, but he couldn’t bring himself to be offended by it.

“Shall we sit?” Gillian’s voice was gentle as she gestured to the dining room table and chairs. “Would you boys like a drink?”

“More like something to eat.” Genesis said with a small laugh, a pink shade dusting under his sharp blue eyes.

“Oh. I’m sure we can manage something.” Angeal’s mother moved toward the stove, the hem of her dress sweeping over the cobblestone floor. “Please, have a seat.” She offered yet again, taking off the green scarf draped around her shoulders to use as oven mitts. The smell of freshly baked bread filled the room, Gillian humming appreciatively as she put it on the table to cool.

Still standing by one of the chairs, Sephiroth turned to look back at the Commander only to find him gone, one of the three doors behind him left ajar. There was a faint rustle followed by a series of clatters, and of course the voice of one red-headed soldier cursing vehemently and sneezing. The woman chuckled gently, shaking her pepper-salt head. “That boy is one troublemaker. Genesis! You were just supposed to bring some eggs!” Sephiroth tried masking his laughter behind his fist, pretending to cough only to fail rather miserably.

A knife was offered to him by its handle. “Be a dear and cut the bread, will you?” Gillian was smiling rather fondly at him which along with her calling him a ‘dear’ for the second time that day, was making him blush yet again. Accepting the utensil, Sephiroth began making two inch cuts as Angeal’s mother placed a copper pan atop the stove.

“I just found our old camping gear in there.” Genesis informed them, emerging from what appeared to be a shed, balancing as many eggs as his hands he could manage holding before leaving them on the table. Upon seeing the silver-haired man, a smile broke on those cerise lips as though what had happened in the orchards was nothing but a bad dream. The Genesis he was seeing now, was simply a whole new person compared to the one back at the Rhapsodos’ mansion. Sephiroth could still see some facets of the Commander as he’d come to know him back at HQ, but here; the scarlet-haired soldier seemed so carefree, a free spirit if one could call him that. The feeling of warmth that grew inside him was so unexpected and so foreign… an idea, a vague thought bloomed in his mind; and the green-eyed soldier had to shake his head to dispel it. Because _normalcy_ was not something _they_ could do. Because _normal_ , Genesis Rhapsodos and Sephiroth couldn’t simply coexist together in one sentence, and definitely not for too long. And the General knew that he couldn’t, _shouldn’t_ , think about the future when their lives were not their own, and he wasn’t even sure of the older man’s feelings toward him.

The sizzling of the eggs brought him out of his reverie. Setting the knife down, a pair of lush lips closed against his neck out of nowhere, sucking gently, minutely, as Genesis circled him, his fingertips brushing against the small of his back before withdrawing quickly as Gillian looked over her shoulder from where she was standing by the oven. “How long are you staying?”

“We-...” Right when the redhead was about to explain, Angeal’s mother ‘tsk’ed. “Let _him_ speak. I want to see if he’s as good of a lecturer as Angeal writes.” It seemed that the smile just never left her face. Genesis pouted, trying to look offended, but didn’t manage to pull it off. Both of them looked expectantly at the General, who felt something small inside him shrivel somewhat at being put on the spot, but he rallied swiftly.

“We’ll be here for a few more days.” He replied, turning slightly so he could face Gillian. Once again, he glanced uncertainty at his red-headed companion. “Officially, nothing's set in stone.”

The woman chuckled and shook her head, turning back to the stove.

“Spoken like a true tactician.” She murmured. “How do you find Banora?”

“Quiet.” He said, after considering his response for a moment. “Peaceful.”

This time, Angeal's mother _did_ laugh, her eyes sparkling with mirth before she sobered and threw a mock-accusatory glance at Genesis.

“You've been coaching him.” She teased. “There is absolutely no way your walk over here was _'quiet’_ or _'peaceful’.”_ Against his will, Sephiroth felt his lip twitch, the redhead made a noise of exaggerated offense before grinning widely. “Here.” she added, handing the plate of eggs to the redhead. “Put that on the table and I’ll toast some of that bread. Sephiroth, there’s butter just over there, in the refrigerator, bring it out would you?”

In the end, it was a pleasant meal. The simplicity of it didn’t particularly matter; it was the quality of their company that was truly valuable. Gillian was an engaging conversant, truly interested in what they had to say and what their respective duties entailed. She asked at length about Sephiroth’s involvement in the training of initiates, and she seemed genuinely delighted to hear that all three Firsts were actively committed to the safety and well-being of those under them. Here, too, Genesis was uncharacteristically open and forthcoming, and while he wasn’t outwardly affectionate towards him while they ate, the younger man caught Gillian’s eyes flicking between them several times in a calculating but not disapproving manner. It wasn’t judgement in her visage, quite the opposite really. No, Sephiroth was under the impression that she was judging their compatibility and their dedication to each other. Strangely, he didn’t feel scrutinized...he felt... _protected_ in a way that was entirely foreign to him.

“Indulge a mother’s curiosity.” Gillian said when they had spoken at length. “How is Angeal? And...Why didn’t he come with you?”

The silver-haired First opened his mouth to reply before realizing that he didn’t exactly have what amounted to a comforting answer. Telling the woman before him that he’d been negligent in the field, essentially tortured and confined, and then ferried away by his second-in-command was a little too personal for his taste. He ignored the small part of him that insisted that it didn’t want to make her worry, because emotionalism of that level after such a short time knowing someone was unacceptable. To remedy this, he took a large bite of his hastily made egg sandwich and raised his eyebrows at the redhead sitting across from him.

Genesis dusted his fingers, tiny specks of crumb falling into his plate as he did, before standing up. “Angeal is fine, busy at the frontlines and taking care of his _protégé_.” Sephiroth could imagine the redhead rolling his eyes as he uttered the last word.

“You mean, Zack the puppy?” Gillian queried with a playful lilt in her soft voice which earned her a peal of laughter from the redhead who was washing his own plate. “Yeah, that’s _him._ ” There was a pause before Angeal’s mother and the scarlet-haired soldier continued in unison. “Zero attention span, restless as a little puppy.”

The ring of joint hilarity that filled the down-home room brought the tiniest of smiles to Sephiroth’s lips as he finished his own meal. The Commander was flicking the water from his hands before coming to stand behind his chair, a slight dampness soaking through the fabric as Genesis placed them on his shoulders. “Actually, we weren’t planning on coming to Banora before my father brought us the paperwork Angeal couldn’t do because he’s at the front. With both of us away, he’s the only one holding Shinra’s army together in Wutai.” There was a long pause, and the silver-haired man had to place his hands flat on the wooden surface or else he’d probably try covering those cool fingertips against his shirt. “I’m sorry, Gillian. But we have to leave soon for the headquarters.”

“Oh.” The smile was gone from Gillian’s world weary face, but still, the General could see understanding in her grey eyes which were soon filled with warmth as she looked up at them. “That’s okay. You are welcome to stay as long as you want, even when your missions bring you here.” The lines around her kind eyes deepened as Angeal’s mother looked at him, and Sephiroth had to stand up, consequently shrugging off Genesis’ hands as he made his way toward the sink; because it was starting to become too overwhelming. He didn’t look back to see the expression on the redhead’s face, busying himself with washing his own plate as his thoughts circulated back to the dull ache he still felt when he was the subject of Angeal’s mother’s unconditional affections.

“I’m afraid our house is a tiny one. Sleeping arrangements might be a little snug, if that’s okay?” She informed them, her chair scraping against the stones as she presumably stood up.

“That won’t be necessary. I found our old camping gear in the shed. I want to show our favorite haunt to Sephiroth before we leave.” Turning around and putting his plate where Genesis had put his on a dish shelf, the silver-haired man saw his companion kiss Angeal’s mother on the cheek, before gazing at him with those cerulean irises. “I’m going to go get our backpacks from my parents’, Seph.”

There was a choice behind those words. To accompany him, and probably witness another confrontation between Genesis and his parents; or to stay here with Gillian, which was probably what the Commander preferred.

“You should stay.” Gillian said abruptly. Both men turned to look at her, identical expressions of disbelief on their faces. She smiled and widened her eyes innocently. “An old lady does like the company of a handsome man every once in a while.” She said cheerfully.

“Genesis is handsome.” Sephiroth blurted out, and then promptly wished he would simply die.

“He is!” Angeal's mother agreed, not missing a beat. “But-and you must forgive me dear-” She added, looking indulgently at the redhead. “-I have seen quite a bit of his handsomeness and very little of yours. So you must forgive me the indulgence.”

And suddenly, with a surge of complete and utter dread, the silver-haired man knew exactly what she was doing. He opened his mouth to refuse, to make an excuse, couldn't think of a good enough one...glanced wildly at Genesis, who was already getting ready to leave and made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. The redhead winked at him, giving a jaunty wave before heading to the door. His cheerful goodbye was lost to the General, who was slowly descending into a pit of panic and despair. He barely registered the front door closing before a gentle hand was laid on his arm.

“Come now.” Gillian said gently. “I'm not that scary.” Swallowing, Sephiroth wanted to refute that _yes_ she _was_ , but his voice didn't seem to want to cooperate with him. Motherly hands gently prised the silverware he was holding from his grip, while the other pushed him back to the table and chairs. “Go and sit back down, I'll wash these.”

He obeyed, but not because he wanted to. No, he obeyed because if he was rude to the woman currently up to her elbows in soap suds, he imagined that Genesis might kill him. Listening to the soft *chink* of dishes shifting together, he tried to calm his otherwise racing thoughts. A small part of him knew he was overreacting. Gillian just wanted to talk to him, that much was clear. But he was inwardly reeling at the concept of domesticity...of the openness he'd seen in his second-in-command that he feared he would never see again. Sephiroth was also terrified by the idea that he _desired_ domesticity...and that was a fairly new sensation, but he couldn't deny that it was attractive.

“Now.” Gillian said brusquely, sitting next to him. “That's done...so let's talk.” She leaned forward. “How are you?”

The silver-haired soldier blinked. Because he was not expecting that kind of question. He'd been expecting a _'what are your intentions towards Genesis?’_ question. Grudgingly, he acknowledged that he could probably work with this better than the aforementioned.

“I am...well.” He said cautiously.

Dark hair streaked with grey fell over an aged but kindly brow as his companion shook her head.

“That's not what I'm asking, darling. You know it, I know it.”

And it was _frightening_ to be so clearly interpreted by someone who barely knew him. It was everything Hojo had ever taught him to avoid. Scrutiny was dangerous because it offered him the concept that affection on a universal scale wasn't a thing of fantasy but reality. And he could not afford to have such misconceptions. At the same time, he was deeply cognizant of the fact that Gillian was not trying to hurt him; that she had no logical reasoning for hurting him. Gillian was trying to get him to open up because in the brief time she had known him, she cared about him. He didn't know what was more terrifying; the fact that someone could love so guilelessly or the fact that he couldn't.

“I'm…” He swallowed. “I'm trying.”

She laughed, and it was such a simple, heartfelt exclamation that he was seized with the urge to do something terrible, something unforgivable just so she could see what a terrible person he was. Almost instantly, the minute the thought crossed his mind, he acknowledged that it wouldn't work. Because Gillian Hewley was good in a way he couldn't ever hope to achieve to be.

“We're all trying.” She said quietly. “Most of us anyway. And the fact that you’re trying tells me what kind of a man you are. I don't need any more than that.” She smiled. “You make Genesis very happy. I don't know how, and it doesn't particularly matter how, I just want you to know I'm thankful.”

And Sephiroth wanted to shake her, to grab her by the shoulders and tug back and forth until her teeth rattled because obviously she was not looking at him correctly. He was a killer, bred for killing and the illusion of goodness and happiness she was trying to impose upon him was _torturing_ him. Torturing him worse than anything Hojo had ever done to him in the labs because he could not have it. But he didn't shake her, he simply sat there, staring at the ground until she kissed his cheek and took his hand and sat there with him. And he found that in that moment he was lonelier than he'd ever been in his life, because now, _now_ he knew what it was like to have a mother...at least a little bit. And he was resentful...jealous even, but he refused to let it consume him. So they sat there, and when the door jiggled heralding the Commander's return they were still sitting there...like two lonely phantoms lost in a desolate world.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Opening the door to Gillian Hewley’s house, Genesis’ lingering thoughts about the rhubarb he’d had with Rebecca Rhapsodos while he’d been gathering both his and Sephiroth’s stuff vanished into thin air.

The silence that greeted him was so tangible he could cut it with his sword. Angeal’s mother was sitting at the head of the dining table her late husband had handcrafted for them, while Sephiroth was sitting on her left, almost vibrating from how tense he was.

The redhead wondered, briefly, if it had been a good idea after all.

He had wanted to bring the silver-haired man here to share with him the same motherly affection Gillian had given him all those years ago. The Commander knew that being raised in Shinra, and specifically the labs, the concept of family, of parents, of having a home was as foreign to the General as surviving under Hojo’s care was to Genesis. The scarlet-haired First knew that despite him being estranged from his parents, he had grown up surrounded by the illusion of having a family, of a home he belonged to, only to have that mirage broken time and time again.

On the other hand, Sephiroth had always been surrounded by the harsh, clinical reality. From the very _fucking_ beginning. Genesis could only imagine, from what he’d seen in that cell in solitary almost two weeks ago, what the silver-haired man must have gone through all his life. The ache that throbbed in his chest, expanding more and more with each wave, was crippling. It was so all-encompassing and horrible and ugly that it overshadowed his pain at finding out he’d been adopted. He’d always suspected that; had thought he’d come to terms with it somehow, when they never sought him out at Midgar. But now, he wanted to scream, to lash out and kill Hojo again and again; because it wasn’t fair; and he knew that. By goddess, he’d known that for a very long time; that life was never fair. But it didn’t make it hurt any less.

A million desires exploded in his mind, harmless platonic things that he’d have laughed at a couple of years ago. But now, he could see snippets, images across the shards that left razor-thin gashes against his consciousness; making him wish for things he knew couldn’t come true. Longing for what-could-have-beens and aching for opportunities, for lives lost. In that moment, he didn’t care how much of a painful existence it’d be, he just wished he’d been there with Sephiroth throughout the man’s childhood; only to hold his hand, if nothing else. Genesis wished they could just give the middle finger to Shinra and run away, become fugitives if it had to come to that, just so he could show the world to the green-eyed soldier, to give him everything he could, anything in his power.

That thought rattled his very foundations, and the greeting he’d been about to utter died on his tongue. Swallowing, his hold on the shoulder band of his backpack tightened; gazing at the curtain of silver that hid Sephiroth’s visage from him with wonder. Because how was it possible?

Genesis Rhapsodos was heartless. That’s what people said behind his back. He himself had known long ago that there, inside the cavity that everyone had a heart, he had a void; an insatiable black thing. But a chasm didn’t hurt, did it? Nothing could escape past the event horizon of this giant black hole swirling inside him. And now he wanted to _give_? And not a little. Everything? All he could?

It felt like he was hit by a Dual Horn. Because how _deluded_ could he have been? How much of an _ignorant_ fool? All this time, the silver-haired man had been beating himself for Genesis to return his feelings, to say those fucking three words back to him, and he’d just…

By Goddess, he was _infuriated_ with himself. He wished his raven-haired friend was here to whack him over the head with that Buster sword, again and again until he grew a new brain. How could he have been so _blind_? If only Gillian wasn’t in the room with them… Well, maybe it was better that she was, because Genesis didn’t really know what he’d do. Probably make an utter fool of himself in front of Sephiroth to make him leave for good.

“Welcome back.” Gillian spoke softly, standing to probably get him a drink. Genesis knew he must have looked a little disheveled, but paid it no heed. Nodding, he tried to come up with anything he could say or do to break the spell that had fallen over his companion.

And thus, he blurted out the most stupid thing that had ever passed the lips of Genesis Rhapsodos. “Uh, Seph… Mind helping me with these...?” Because why not? It wasn’t like he was a fucking First. The urge to kick himself in the shin after a rather hard facepalm was really strong, but he decided not to embarrass himself further in front of the subject of his newly discovered _love..._

The word tasted so foreign on his tongue, like some sweet poison, thick but flowing nonetheless to rush in his veins. And he simply couldn’t have enough now that he knew its name… This was dangerous, like a constrictor slithering against his skin, twisting and turning but never contracting; until he’d been lulled into some semblance of comfort, of security, before choking him. And surprisingly, Genesis was okay with that; to have the image of those brilliant emerald orbs burned into his retinas as he faded away.

The hand covering his fingers on the shoulder strap startled him out of his reverie, and it took every facet of his mental and physical willpower to stand there and let Sephiroth take the rucksack off his back, without slamming him into the far wall behind him and kissing him senseless.

Because he wanted him. Had wanted him, since his stupid interview with that reporter. Had wanted him since the first time he laid eyes on those propaganda posters. Had wanted him every single day he’d slaved away in SOLDIER, trying, pushing himself to his limits, to rise through the ranks as quickly as he could so they could be friends. So they could be together. And it had led them here. All the silly banters and childish bickerings. All the half-assed accusations and mischievous taunts. Every rise and fall of their swords throughout their battles; working together as a team, watching each other’s backs, going through hell for each other. And Genesis had never been any more sure in his entire life; that he was on the right track. That he didn’t want to change anything about their past. That he regretted nothing. Because despite all the good and the bad, all the sorrow and the joy, everything had led them to this point.

To the point that Genesis Rhapsodos finally did realize that he loved Sephiroth. That he needed him like air. That if something had happened to the silver-haired man that fateful day in Wutai, a part of him, _a substantial part of him_ would have been buried there under the many corpses and the mixture of blood and mud, never to be found again.

With his free hand, Genesis tugged on those long digits suggestively, not caring if Gillian noticed it or not, before heading toward the shed. Evidently surprised, his fellow First followed without resistance. Angeal's mother bade them a cheerful goodnight, and he responded distractedly in kind. Outside, evening was beginning to descend. The back of the Hewley house was on a somewhat steep decline, with a small utility shed to the right of the entrance. Sporting the same color as the rest of the immediate and adjacent structures, the redhead had fond memories of whiling away the morning, afternoon, and evening hours near or next to the somewhat rickety building. Angeal had never been circumspect about sharing his toys or-in later years-his gadgets. And while Genesis had no shortage of the newest and most expensive adolescent and teenage knick-knacks, there was something much more valuable about using those of a friend. Even if they were a little battered or beaten, it was still better than playing alone.

Opening the door gave way to a barrage of dust and a little debris. Gillian-by some unspoken rule-didn’t use the shed. It had always been his dark-haired comrade’s domain; the redhead felt his chest clench nostalgically at the plethora of things that greeted him inside. An old rusty bike with most of the spokes missing, a picture of him and Angeal hanging upside-down from one of the Banora Whites on his...adoptive parent’s property, a rubber-band ball, and a broken slingshot.  What looked like an old sketch that he’d drawn of some now-nameless girl he had a crush on was underneath a hammer on the workbench, and the table before it was scattered with assorted tools that looked like they had seen better days. The camping gear was in a far corner, and he got to work clearing away what he could in order to reach it. This too was a little bit weatherworn, but it would still work...and that was all that mattered.

Pulling what they needed from the myriad of items, Genesis straightened and turned, smirking as he caught sight of Sephiroth holding an old recruiting pamphlet. It was drooping and yellowed at the edges, but the text was still clearly legible. Shinra had been heavily banking on ad marketing campaigns to draw in initiates, and he and Angeal had been caught up in the frenzy. He could remember counting down the days until graduation, ticking off his calendar with a kind of excited anticipation. Most of their friends had gone on to help their parents on the farm, but they had what they saw as greater, more lofty aspirations.

“I remember when these got sent out.” Sephiroth mused, turning the leaflet over.

Shouldering the sleeping bags, and half-dragging half-carrying the tent, Genesis came to stand beside him. Looking at the dusty paper between Sephiroth’s fingers, a tiny smile played on his lips. Because while he knew almost everything about Shinra now, he’d been on the other side of the whole marketing campaigns back then. “Tell me on the way. I want to know.”

Taking the pamphlet and splitting the camping gear between them, Genesis guided them toward the east, passing by a multitude of houses and a couple of windmills in silence before they reached the end of the little town. The lush greenery covered the cliffs on either side of them as they walked through the canyon, nocturnal animals moving and rustling about as the night drew nigh.

“Mm.” The younger man murmured as if considering his question. “Well, the idea was to create a pool of as many potential recruits as possible. I remember because I was opposed to the idea, it felt like advertisement...which in of itself is fine, but it was too light hearted-in my opinion-too enthusiastic.” He shifted the pack on his shoulder slightly, green eyes flashing. “When the first initiates came, it only strengthened my stance...because they didn’t understand they were signing up for potential death. That’s the main vein of being a member of any military cause...the fact that someday, you might find yourself bleeding out...on a field, with nothing but your weapon and your gear.” He waved a hand. “Obviously, there were some-including you and Angeal-that knew what you’d signed up for, but there were a few I convinced the Director to turn away...not because they weren’t dedicated, but because they obviously didn’t understand what they were dedicated to.”

The valley they were in opened up to face a modestly-tall hill. Genesis had chosen it because while one side overlooked the factory, the other gave way to the vista that was Banora. Rolling, emerald hills the color of the General’s eyes; dotted with farms, silos, and a multitude of Banora White trees. Far beyond-if you looked hard enough-the glimmer of the sea was evident as a sapphire line on the horizon. Fluffy evening clouds dotted the view...like scattered down on a multicolored horizon framed by the setting sun. A soft breeze parted fronds of fine-stranded grass; making it ripple like the crests of tiny evergreen waves...cool but not unpleasant. It was here that the nostalgic ache from his childhood was strongest. Not because he missed it, but because he missed the illusion of what he’d thought it was.

Genesis wanted Angeal to be here with him, after all these years. To look upon the scenery expanding below them, and remember how, back in those days, it used to seem so big to them. He missed going to their secret hideout at the entrance of the caves. Shaking his head, he tried to dispel the feeling that had come over him.

 _Here, now, together._ Genesis reminded himself, looking at his silver-haired companion, hiding his smile as he bent down to put his rucksack and the sleeping bag he’d carried down, so they could set up the tent. There were no trees up here, only bushes here and there, rustling gently in the breeze. Overhead, the indigo dome of welkin was being adorned with sparkling diamonds as the dying ember of the sun started drowning in the horizon.

Their sleeping bags were the only thing that fit inside the tent. Thankfully, the monsoon season wasn’t completely upon them yet; even if it drizzled in the morning, the fabric of their backpacks was waterproof. Making sure everything was set inside, Genesis emerged from the snug space, and probably for the thousandth time that day he caught himself smiling.

In front of him, Sephiroth stood near the edge of the cliff, his hands inside the pockets of his pants. That head of silver was slightly tipped back, tendrils of shimmering moonlight dancing against the younger man’s shirt as a zephyr brought with it the unmistakable scent of Banora Whites. It just occurred to him that they hadn’t even tried a single one since their arrival.

_Maybe tomorrow._

Genesis knew it was impossible to catch Sephiroth off-guard; he’d made enough noise by now for his companion to know that it was him slowly closing the distance between them. The scarlet-haired soldier didn’t want this air of tranquil silence that had settled around them to break. He could imagine that the younger man was enjoying this; this partial freedom, this not-having-to-think-about-work-or-war.

Here the green-eyed soldier was just another man, a unique individual, and also gorgeous, but still a _man_. And so was he. There were no titles, nothing. And the redhead didn’t want to dwell on the past or think about what future had in store for them. He just wanted to embrace his companion, to hold him close and never let go.

Looping his arms around that chiseled torso, Genesis splayed his palms gently over Sephiroth’s heart, bestowing a feather-light kiss at the base of the man’s pale neck, before trailing up toward the hollow under his ear.

The scent of that molten waterfall combined with the one that was uniquely Sephiroth’s was intoxicating. It felt like he was drowning in an emerald sea, sinking deeper and deeper, and yet he could breathe. A strange warmth was swelling inside his chest with every strong beat of that heart against his fingertips, engulfing anything and everything on its path that for a moment, the redhead forgot what he’d been wanting to do, what he’d wanted to say.

Genesis couldn’t take it anymore; he feared if he didn’t speak now, he’d either explode or terribly regret it later.

“Ashayam…” The scarlet-haired man whispered, the word rolling on his tongue as though it was a sacred epithet; like the soft murmur of a stream flowing in a secret garden. “ _The stars turn before thee, and the mountains of my heart have fallen,_ _so the waves knock against the edges of the sky, knowing they will eventually conquer the land._ ” Genesis paused, his azure eyes fluttering shut as he nuzzled the pale column of Sephiroth’s neck. His voice was low, so low, that only the man in his arms could hear him; for if the world surrounding them could be privy to how reverently he loved his companion, they’d conspire to take the younger man away. “ _How you have me with the abandon of an exploding nebula...for you...the quasar, hath conquered these galaxies…_ ”

He didn’t miss the infinitesimal shiver that ran through the younger man’s body. Realistically, he knew it was more than likely from his close proximity and the tone of his voice than his actual words. The General had never struck him as a man with a particular fondness for poetry, especially considering how badly he reacted to _Loveless._ Though, in all fairness, it could also be the _amount_ of times he’d listened to the redhead recite the play than the actual content. Genesis had long ago given up on the possibility that any of his friends would ever appreciate the piece as much as he did. And while he was perfectly aware that his fixation with the lines bordered on the fanatical, it wasn’t like he was hurting anyone, so why not? Long, lithe fingers threaded through the ones over his fellow First’s heart and the Commander smiled against the graceful arch of the green-eyed soldier’s neck.

Here, he felt at home.

And it was a little strange, to think that in such a short time they wouldn’t have this anymore. That their duties were going to put everything they’d built together here and in Mideel on a backburner. A part of him resented it, but yet another part accepted that it was simply a facet of their lives. Even as the silver-haired First swayed slightly, his head tilting to the side somewhat under the onslaught of his voice and the subtle brush of his lips, he acknowledged that maybe...just maybe they might be able to make this work. Because there was still something _separate_ from all that, something that flourished under nurture but would prevail despite duress...and it was singularly theirs. It didn’t have to be apparent...simply continuous.

“You know that sort of thing’s lost on me.” Sephiroth murmured, turning his head somewhat; so that Genesis’ lips were nudging the hollow of his throat. The body before him pressed backwards somewhat; another shudder, and the outer shell of his ears were turning a subtle shade of roseate. “Nevertheless,” He continued, in a slightly ragged tone. “It was beautiful.”

The scarlet-haired soldier hummed contently, closing his eyes once more to commit everything in that moment to his memory. Despite what Sephiroth had said, Genesis couldn’t stop the verses flowing from somewhere deep inside him; from the core of that warmth, that sweet sweet ache that had bloomed inside him back at Gillian’s home. Remembering the look that had flashed inside those brilliant beryl eyes, the sadness and resignation back in the guest room of Rhapsodos’ mansion; the older man drew back slightly, leaning the crown of his fiery tresses against the atlas and axis of Sephiroth’s spine. Long fingers had descended to hold the General’s hips, gently, but still there, because the Commander was afraid if he let go, this would all vanish like an ephemeral mid-summer dream.

If so, if this was all a dream, Genesis didn’t want to wake up. He didn’t want the bright blades of the sun to tear the star-studded canopy above their heads. And it was so unlike him. The fiery Commander who hated stagnating, staying in one place and getting _used_ to things, wanted to live in an infinitesimal moment in the many that composed their lives, for all eternity. A shuddery breath passed through his lips. Goddess, he was hopeless, wasn’t he? So what else did he have to lose? At least, if there was really no tomorrow for them, he’d have no regrets; no what-ifs, nothing. He’d die a happy man.

And thus, he continued. “K'diwa, _lest you forget; freefall is not beyond measurement; and we are not alone in the essence of eternity._ ” His lips were tracing mindless patterns against the broad expanse of Sephiroth’s shoulder, and although the thin fabric still separated them, Genesis could feel the heat of their bodies mingling between them. His physicality and mentality hearkened to it, as though invisible strings were pulling him toward the younger man in front of him.

“ _But I would catch the sunlight of the most distant body, to keep your heart..._ ” And the scarlet-haired man struggled with himself, nearly choked on his own words, because the last time he had let go, dark, insidious claws had almost ripped them apart. And he’d wanted to somehow repent, to take those awful remembrances away from that mnemonic memory and replace it with brightness and light. His voice shook a little as he continued, pouring out his soul because that was all he had left now. “ _And how I love thee, beyond words or gestures. For you are my universe, and I am but a pinprick star...In your magnificent sky._ ”

For a moment, it seemed as if the General was just as responsive to his words as before...which was a lot like saying _not at all._ The slow rise of the Commander’s ire tickled at his synapses, licked at his veins because could Sephiroth be just _a little less dense_ when it came to poetry?! But, no, the younger man seemed thoroughly preoccupied with the apparently euphoric sensation of their bodies pressed up against each other. And Gaia, Genesis knew he was hot, but he was trying to say something important...something really important, and the man in his arms was evidently oblivious to it.

Then, abruptly, Sephiroth stilled...as if stricken by the realization of something monumental. The silver-haired man trembled...shuddered, really...as if waiting in some sort of existential agony for a punchline that was never going to come. And the manner that his breath caught in his throat was telling, as was the way he seemed to sag in his arms before turning...slowly...slowly...until all the redhead could see was emerald green burning out of platinum-framed lashes. His fellow First didn’t touch him, but he didn’t really have to...Genesis felt like he was embracing him with his gaze alone…with the emotions behind it.

“You love me.” Sephiroth murmured. The redhead swallowed, opened his mouth, but he was cut off. “You _know_ you love me.”

And it took every ounce of his will not to run, not to deny it out of the fear that somehow by accepting, Genesis was dooming them somehow. So instead, he did the thing he always did. The distance between them couldn’t have mattered at all as the scarlet-haired soldier pressed his lips against those soft familiar curves. And somehow, in some indescribable way, this kiss was different; from the way his physicality was responding to the burning fingertips tracing his side only to firmly clasp around his hips, to the way his own digits were tangling between those ethereal silver tresses, pulling the younger man close and closer still until they could be one; it was all different.

When they had to draw back a little, the redhead felt like a man who’d been bereft of air, the delicate bridge of moist connecting their lips still, swaying with the hot puffs of his breath. For a moment, he was afraid to look up at that viridescent gaze. What if Sephiroth didn’t want it anymore…? What if he took it and cast it down the cliff behind them so that it’d be lost amongst the lake of emerald plantations forever? That thought brought him back to the green gaze Genesis could almost feel against him. So, slowly he looked up, revealing pools of cerulean from underneath mile-long fiery lashes.

It seemed his apprehension was unfounded, because Sephiroth was smiling. It was a small, fleeting sort of smile... something that on anyone else would have seemed wan or even forced. But the redhead knew that in this case, it was genuine; that the emotions behind it spoke volumes more than the expression. And because Sephiroth was a man of few words and-in his opinion-far too much thought, the silver-haired man reeled him in for yet another kiss; this one deeper than the last. It seemed fitting really, that the sun chose that moment to fully disappear...to sink behind endless rolling hills in a pastel array of solar brilliance. It lit the sky up in a tapestry of pink, orange, gold, yellow, and red.

For the briefest moment, Genesis could imagine the sight that they made...though no one was around to see it. Two tall figures on a hill, silhouetted against a blazing, dying sky. Stubborn strength pressed against stubborn will…like the eternal contest of time and age...of sea and shore and the spiraling flood that made up the Lifestream. It was at once breathtakingly beautiful and yet somehow ominous in a jarring...bone-deep manner that shook his very soul. As quickly as it came, the vision was gone...and they were blanketed in velvet, navy darkness that was broken by the ingress of thousands of stars. Like diamonds, they rose from the death of the day to cast a crystalline atmosphere of silver brilliance...shimmering in their countless celestial bodies until it seemed that the night was alive with astral light.

And Sephiroth was kissing him slow, hard, _hungry..._ the fingers at his hips like blazing pinpoints of fire that shuddered through calloused digits until every nerve in his body was alight. Genesis was aware-dimly-that this kiss was still different, that it was in some way whole in a sense that others before were not. And when the redhead tilted his head to nip at the plush curve of a lower lip his companion's breath was a tremulous vibrato in his throat, washing over his tongue until it mingled between them. The Commander tugged lightly at the strands of silver hair currently entangled in his palms and the green-eyed First shuddered and ripped his mouth away so he could tilt his head back...a soft groan escaping him as he did so.

“I love you too.” Sephiroth muttered, his hips jerking forward somewhat as he apparently attempted to settle himself.

Genesis could feel a heat rising up against his neck, probably dusting his cheeks before expanding to his ears, and he couldn’t stop the big bright smile that started dancing on his lips. Because this whole thing felt like he was some teenager again, with not a single care in the world, aside from the flames kindling between them here and now. And the scarlet-haired man desired that fire, he desired those burning points of contact anchoring him to this world, and those heated luxurious lips that could be so gentle and at the same time so cruel. And he wanted them, everywhere.

“Yours.” Without thinking, the word escaped him, and the older man decided to let go, because they had been holding back for so long, teetering and dancing around this point of no return. “Take me.” Genesis breathed, firm yet seductive, teasing. And he had a moment notice before a dark look fleeted across Sephiroth’s features, those hands clutching his hips harder before he was ensnared in yet another hungry kiss. The redhead was far too intoxicated to realize whose moan and whose groan it was that got lost between their mingling breaths, a thigh was wedging its way between his legs, and a smirk tugged on the corners of his lips.

Pulling suggestively on the waistband of the younger man’s pants, they walked backwards toward their tent, breaking their lip lock here and there for a peal of laughter, for an intake of breath, only to resume, more heatedly, passionately. And when the gravity shifted, a waterfall of silver cascading around him as the bejeweled welkin was replaced with the top of their tent, Genesis let out a playful laugh, his fingers pulling up the hem of Sephiroth’s shirt and meandering the vast expanse of his companion’s torso like wild whirligigs, dancing of their own accord, drawing meaningless patterns, crossing paths here and there.

The green-eyed soldier leaned into his touch, spine bowing as he gave himself to his ministrations. All mouth and tongue as long, strong fingers snaked between them to brush against the front of the redhead’s pants before squeezing; lightly, then a little harder. The choked noise that made its way up from the back of the Commander’s throat was strangled, almost involuntary. He could taste the smirk on his fellow First’s lips, but it didn’t feel like a challenge...it felt like a victory, for both of them.

A few moments more and his companion’s shirt had fallen to the side; giving way to miles of endless alabaster skin that shuddered under his touch. Genesis’ shirt was similarly discarded, warm lips abandoning their post to travel downwards across his sternum...platinum strands spilling over his right arm as Sephiroth preoccupied his mouth to the right and just downwards of his bellybutton. He didn’t linger, smoothing desirous hands up his sides and pressing a chaste kiss on his lips before his focus was reverted elsewhere.

This too, was a little bit different; because it was very obvious that the silver-haired man was more open with him now than he’d been before. The General’s touches had always been a little bit hesitant and uncertain. As if he was holding back somewhat in terms of affection. Here, now, his fellow First was _showering_ him with affection in ways that the redhead had never thought he would before. Soft, tender kisses at his fingertips as he rolled his hips; the tip of a tongue below his navel...long, contemplative caresses that explored the crease behind his elbows...the contour of his jaw and the line of his eyelashes. Sephiroth touched him like he was a map that he was only beginning to discover and everything new...every movement...every gasp was a glorious revelation.

By the time they got around to removing their clothes, Genesis’ body felt like it was a vibrating, thrumming mess of arousal. He acknowledged-through the whirl of love and passion that was currently turning his brain into spaghetti-that slowing down would probably be a good idea lest he explode before they even took off their pants.

“ _Sephiroth…_ ” He breathed shakily, affectionately. With a gentle push that wouldn’t have possibly been able to move the silver-haired man atop him, Genesis watched with wonder as Sephiroth went with the movement, sinews flexing underneath the pale skin as effortlessly, the younger man reversed their positions.

Beyond the rush of blood in his ears, their heated breaths and the overloud beating of his own heart, outside the sanctuary of their tent, all was silent, as though the whole world was waiting, watching them with bated breath as though they were opposing forces of nature, his fire versus Sephiroth’s ice, consumed in a heavenly dance to be conjoined.

His azure eyes were never leaving those emerald irises, reverence, adoration, admiration swirling freely in them as he gently brushed the shimmering tresses out of his lover’s face, his touch a whisper of calloused fingertips against smooth skin as though the younger man was something sacred.

Slowly, Genesis lowered his head, their lips meeting somewhere in between, slowly but surely, like lazy flames licking against the shore of each other’s consciousness. Again, and again, each time more fervent, the flames growing more ardent with each brush of epidermis against epidermis. And the redhead couldn’t help but arch into the hands that rose to caress his sides, settling just above his hips. Vaguely, distantly, he could hear himself calling Sephiroth’s name, with so much desire that it made him ache, that set him aflame. Because this wasn’t working. They couldn’t seem to be able to slow down.

Leaning a slightly damp forehead against his companion’s, he let his eyes fall shut, a smile curling his lips as he kept evading the perfect bow of Sephiroth’s lips.

“Genesis…” The deep velvety baritone of the silver-haired man’s voice was enough to sever all his restraints. The way his lover had spoken his name… It felt like Genesis was being reborn. He simply couldn’t have enough of it… He was already addicted to it. Wanted to hear it in his ear in the earliest waking hours, every day; to feel those strong arms holding him close. And it was terrifying, in such a blissful way that for a moment, despite all the pleasure and passion addling his brain, he thought that maybe, he was really beloved by the goddess.

“Say it again.” Genesis demanded, his tone more pleading, wanting, desiring. The breath ghosting across the shell of his ear made a shiver run down his spine, teasingly those lips brushed against his skin before the General acceded, the smirk the redhead couldn’t see evident in the endearing lilt in his voice.

‘Genesis…’ and ‘Genesis…’ over and over again, at random intervals with varying inflections as if the silver-haired man was gauging the way his body responded to his name being so worshipfully recited. And by the time Sephiroth was done, Genesis was trembling above the younger man, trying to hold back the adagio rolling of his hips that was becoming more bold and confident, almost bordering on frenzy if the redhead let go.

“ _Seph…_ ” Genesis pleaded because he couldn’t… just couldn’t.

It seemed that some vague and mysterious force of nature vanished their pants at some point. Logically, the redhead knew this was impossible; that the silver-haired man currently watching him lose his mind had lifted his hips to rid himself of his clothing while the Commander had done the same; his brain simply refused to keep up with the logistics of it. Regardless, he was sinking back onto the warmth of that lithe body and he was pulled into another kiss while Sephiroth arched into him and moaned something soft and negligible, his head falling back to expose his throat. Strong arms tugged him further downwards and the older man exhaled shakily against the hollow under a flushed ear.

Vaguely, he was aware of the fact that this wasn’t exactly the position that he’d proposed initially. He had-after all-said _‘take me’,_ and he didn’t see how that was going to be possible when he was currently lying between spread thighs as his fellow First writhed suggestively under him. And-to be fair-the thought of Sephiroth taking every inch of him was not exactly unattractive, but it wasn’t what he was aiming for. Rising somewhat, Genesis hooked his legs on either side of that powerful waist and wrangled them both to the left; until he was underneath the man in question.

The younger man seemed almost disappointed at first but quickly rallied, sliding one leg up and kissing him hard. One hand rose to cup the back of the Commander’s head whilst the other descended between them. The blue-eyed soldier nearly bit through his bottom lip when a large, lithe hand closed over his erection; stroking in a slow rhythmic pattern that pooled at the base of his spine only to bloom in his stomach. Green eyes watched him intently, singular in their focus and the heat of that magnificent gaze only served to fuel his arousal. When the redhead tried to return the favor; Sephiroth relinquished his grip on his cock and retreated somewhat, hooking one of Genesis’ legs around his waist. The silver-haired man let his hand descend once again to slide between sheets and skin to cup his ass, squeezing slightly before moving inwards to stroke suggestively at the ingress beneath.

The older man suppressed a ragged gasp at the ache that threatened to roll over his tongue at the simple touch. Another soft press and he was alight with fervor, responding to the green-eyed First’s caresses with equal amounts of enthusiasm. And still...Sephiroth watched with a kind of quiet, ravenous hunger...his lips parted in an expression that seemed to be half concentration and half covetousness. When lithe fingers clamped at the base of his erection to keep him from coming, Genesis was fairly certain the General was trying to drive him insane. Eventually, the silver-haired soldier sat up and appeared to be looking for something; platinum brows were raised expectantly at him...and the redhead frowned questioningly through his haze of lust.

“Lube?” The younger man muttered.

Closing his eyes to try and concentrate, Genesis only managed to come up with the conclusion that his brain had simply melted from the heat of their coupling. As he opened his mouth to answer the question the green-eyed soldier had asked from him, the redhead couldn’t find his eloquence, settling for an ‘Uh…’. Carding his fingers through his hair, the Commander cracked his eyes open as he heard the faint rustle, the absence of the heat emanating from Sephiroth’s body suddenly leaving him shivering.

There was a sound of a zipper opening, and Genesis simply couldn’t get his hands off himself as he waited for the General to come back. Curling his fingers around his precum slicked cock, he began stroking leisurely, pushing his head into the softness of the sleeping bags beneath them. “Seph…” The redhead warned somewhat, and the barely audible curse that reached his ears made him grin from ear to ear. Because the thought of Shinra’s finest getting all butterfingered for him was just simply too much.

It seemed to happen in a blink of an eye, one moment he heard the sound of the zipper again, and the next, the warm heaviness of another body settled over him, a deep growl rumbling up the back of the silver-haired man’s throat as Sephiroth swatted the hand on his cock away. A moan spilled over his lips as a pair of cold digits slipped between the crevice of his ass, rubbing soothing circles that had him nearly teetering over the edge had it not been for the tight grip at the base of his erection.

Genesis groaned, getting impatient as he remembered how the younger man had taken his sweet time to prepare him last time they did this. Trying to put up a pissed face as best as he could, he ordered. “Stop teasing and do it for Goddess’ sake…”

The smug grin that met his demand was almost enough for him to throw the younger man unto his back and have his way with him before those slick digits pushed inside, and his thoughts just short-circuited, his lips hanging open as Genesis jerked forward. With one hand clutching the sheets under him, his other rose of its own accord, cupping the back of Sephiroth’s head as he started moving in rhythm beneath him.

The redhead was barely able to keep his eyes open, floating on the waves of euphoria that rose inside him in a never-ending tide. He barely noticed when his lover had added the third finger, and now the ticklish brush of long silver locks across his burning skin made him look up and see the green-eyed soldier moving against him; the same concentrating covetous look on that pale face as Sephiroth watched him unravel with a fascination that bordered on worshipful. Genesis hadn’t even noticed when he’d hooked both his legs around that lean waist, his toes curling more and more with every thrust. And when those long digits hit that sweet spot inside him, the scarlet-haired First could swear he could see stars falling around them. It was too much, the pressure at the base of his skull expanding until he couldn’t think, his thoughts jumbling over one another in sensory overload.

“Seph… _please…_ ” Genesis begged, everything blurring as a single tear rolled down the corner of his eye. He wasn’t sure if he really wanted Sephiroth to let him go, however, because the redhead was certain that the moment his lover did, he was going to explode.

“Shh…”

It was a perfunctory comment, to be sure, not meant to be impatient or reprimanding. Instead, it was soothing...as was the soft passage of breath over his lips that came with the exhalation. The fingers curled again before withdrawing and he groaned at the loss, staring blankly at the tarp above them as Sephiroth's cock nudged his ass, sliding a bit as the younger man's fingers trembled while he sought purchase.

A warm mouth slanted over his as the head caught his rim and the General pushed home...arm coming forward to brace himself as he dropped his head to mindlessly nuzzle the redhead's cheek; lips open and searching against flushed skin...silver brows furrowed. And it was _good_ , that stretched...full feeling bordering just on the edge of pain...the platinum-haired soldier fully seated within him before stilling, shaking somewhat as he attempted to remain in control.

Every so often, those powerful hips would jerk slightly...sending hot, full-bodied shudders down Genesis’ spine as he let himself accommodate the intrusion. The heavy, labored issue of breath next to his ear was both inflaming and comforting, and when he slid his right hand down the column of the green-eyed First’s back to grasp powerful flanks-digging his fingers in-Sephiroth groaned.

An upward jerk of the older man's wrist and he pulled back obligingly before thrusting deep and the sound that left the Commander's lips was winded yet wanting as he dropped his head back into the sleeping bag and tilted his hips to meet the next purposeful ingress, his body undulating into it as his blood simmered just under the surface of his skin.

“Genesis.” Sephiroth groaned, one hand sliding beneath them to grasp his ass for deeper purchase.

Their kisses were sloppy and distracted...just on that edge of abandon as the next impassioned heave forward struck his prostate dead center and the low, satisfied noise that spilled from the blue-eyed First's lips was ragged and lilting at the edges...strung out and tinged in a red haze that seemed to crash into the shores of his psyche like a crimson tidal wave.

Faster, and the fingers clutching his backside abandoned their post to tangle in Genesis’ hair as Sephiroth pushed them upwards, till the sleeping bag was bunched against the small of the redhead’s back as he leaned on an elbow to keep himself upright; one leg hooked around the younger man’s waist while the other placed its respective foot flat…knee drawn up as they met with the next heady thrust.

The moan that spilled between their distracted mouths was without a discernible owner, vocality intermingling as the pleasure curled tight in the Commander’s belly, threatening to push him over the edge. That secret, hidden bundle of nerves was hit yet again and Genesis clenched hard, gritting his teeth to muffle the noise as his head fell forward to loll against an alabaster shoulder; fingers clutching yards of silver hair.

_“Gen.”_

His mind was simply too hazy to comprehend what that meant, but reflexively his hold loosened, instead, digging half-moons inside the flawless epidermis. His body arched with the next wave of their coupling meeting Sephiroth’s in a rousing slap of muscle against muscle that made his head reel.

“ _Seph…_ Goddess… _Pleease…_ ” Genesis could hear his own voice, knowing somehow that he’d been cognizant enough to formulate these words, however, he wasn’t sure if they were intelligible with the constant litany of moans that spilled from his lips. The redhead barely registered his back hitting the ground as he wrapped the hand that had been supporting him around his throbbing cock; the faint barely there touch was enough to make him thrash his head, further disheveling unruly tresses as a choked vocable escaped his throat.

Blindly, his fingers prised the vice-like grip that had stopped him from coming, and just as soon as the hurried tell-tale utterance of ‘Seph, oh Seph…’ issued from his lips, his body was going taut, clenching around the silver-haired man atop him as his climax hit him in a flood of euphoria. For the next few moments that seemed to have stretched into eternity, white was exploding behind his closed eyelids, his physicality riding the tremors of his afterglow, when his lover’s movements above him became jerky, hurried and random, and soon Sephiroth, too, followed him over the edge.

With only crescents of azure peeking from underneath auburn lashes, Genesis could see minute spasms of strong biceps as the silver-haired man tried holding himself above him, a slight frown creasing his brow as pleasure washed over him; the mile-long silver lashes quivering gently against those flushed cheekbones that could cut glass. And the blue-eyed soldier couldn’t help but raise his head as he cradled that pale face with his hand, pressing a kiss to the corners of that perfect cerise mouth. “ _Ashayam…_ ” The redhead whispered reverently, moving on to place his lips gently on the corners of those beautiful unique eyes that were still hidden from him. “My Sephiroth…” And it somehow felt like he was voicing his soul because that ache filled him all over again as he left one final kiss on the crown of that brilliant head. “ _K’diwa._ ”

The subject of his rumination murmured something soft and sensual, withdrawing and settling over him...all lean, exhausted muscle and lax limbs. Soft lips brushed against his earlobe as the General opened his mouth to speak.

“ _There is no hate, only joy._ ”

The grin that spread across Genesis’ face felt like it welled up from the depths of his soul. Bright like the new morning sun, it spread warm across his fingers tips and spiraled hot and joyous to the very dregs of his being.

“ _For you are beloved…_ ”

The younger man trailed off and sighed, his eyes drooping. He settled further into the cradle of the Commander’s hips, fingers squeezing reflexively as he apparently fought sleep. The redheaded First admitted to himself that he wasn’t faring much better. Exhaustion trailed against the edges of his consciousness like a soft, blue wave. His body felt relaxed, thoroughly spent, and the warm press of Sephiroth’s body was a welcome weight. Therefore, it came as somewhat of a surprise when the silver-haired soldier shifted, leaning over him to bestow a kiss on his forehead. Genesis ‘hmmm’ed tiredly, opening his eyes somewhat to gaze into pools of viridian.

“You are beloved.” Sephiroth murmured. “You are _my_ beloved.”

And because the General was a man of few words, because he’d chosen to forego that singular, individual fact in order to quote lines from a poem that the redhead was fairly sure he hated...Genesis said nothing. Instead, he smiled and drew him down for another kiss...because they had all night, and because no one could say when they’d have another time for this come morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The verses of poetry Genesis recites is written by the one and only Arnediadglanduath.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a shirt before.”

Sephiroth frowned, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair. Across the table, Angeal smiled genuinely before turning back to Genesis, who was looking out over the expanse of the upper plate. Unsurprisingly, they were in the Commander’s apartment; sequestered to his balcony.

It had taken him several days to be allowed access into the redhead’s living space. According to the resident in question, it needed ‘a makeover’. According to Angeal, it meant that a certain blue-eyed, scarlet-haired First had had a ‘temper tantrum.’ Whatever it had meant, he couldn’t exactly tell what was supposed to be different. Only that everything seemed newer and the light under the microwave was now functional whereas before, it was not.

HQ was as it’d always been, despite their absence. Their everyday tasks were assigned, and while Lazard had scolded them so fiercely Sephiroth was somewhat apprehensive of the fact that his ears might not stop ringing...so far, it hadn’t been exactly unpleasant. In terms of paperwork, they seemed to have gotten double the workload, but both he and his second-in-command knew better than to complain.

They’d gotten off lucky, in terms of everything the company could have thrown at them but didn’t. They were lucky not to be facing suspension or dishonorable discharge. As far as their job descriptions were concerned; they had abandoned their posts with nothing but an excuse about ‘overdue vacation days.’

The same couldn’t be said for Hojo.

Upon his return, the scientist had whisked Sephiroth down to the labs and tried his damnedest to take him apart only to put him together again. The silver-haired First didn’t think he’d bled so much in his life, and the only way to remedy the pain was to stagger back up to his apartment and fall into bed wrapped in the comforter.

He was awoken late the next day by a yelling, hysterical redhead who had followed a trail of hemoglobin back from the labs after not hearing from him for eighteen hours. Most of the damage was gone at that point, but the guilt of his emotional negligence was a hard scar to bear on its own. Because he _should_ have told Genesis...he’d simply not been in the right frame of mind to do so. The man in question didn’t speak to him for three days, and at the end of the third day he called him down to the training room and sent a Firaga his way so strong that his hair was singed for the better part of a week.

It was worth it.

Not because of the pain, or because of his obvious disregard for the older man’s need to know he was alright. No, enduring it was worth it because Genesis _loved_ him. And if being loved meant that he needed to be torn apart and mended together an indefinite amount of times...he’d take it. Because Genesis loved him. Realistically, he hadn’t said the words, but the words were within whatever he said and did. And though Hojo had ordered him back within the week for a ‘follow up examination’, it didn’t matter. He’d simply have to be more careful about hiding it, more cautious about making excuses for his absence.

The war with Wutai seemed to be experiencing some sort of lull. Most of the papers that came across his desk were perfunctory; detailing neutral stations. This was-of course-only his perspective; for all Sephiroth knew most of the combat initiative was being fielded to Lazard. His recent track record wasn’t exactly spotless. The troops they’d left behind appeared to be in a stalemate with the opposing faction, and neither was evidently eager to continue the battle. The minute that they received notice of aggressive action, however, they’d be taking it in turns to ship out.

The General’s lips thinned as he brushed a lock of silver hair that had fallen over his face away. Combat suddenly seemed foreign to him...which was a foreign feeling in of itself. Despite his concerns that he was getting rusty, returning to the VR room had proven otherwise, and his ability to best Angeal or Genesis in a spar was not lessened.

It seemed that something in him was looking elsewhere...away from the call of war and to something more tangible...more valuable. His time with the Commander, especially at the Hewley house had left him wanting...wanting some sense of _peace._ And while Genesis certainly gave him that peace, there was no guarantee of its continuity.

And Sephiroth knew-realistically-that such veins of thought wouldn’t get him anywhere. He was tied to Shinra in a way that was irreversible. The only thing that could possibly garner his dismissal without returning to the labs was some sort of irremediable injury that rendered him crippled. At some point, when he was very young, he’d entertained the idea of lopping off some vital part of himself...just to escape. But the mere idea of it seemed cowardly and resigned...yet it didn’t quell the ache...the thirst for some sort of freedom. The difference now was that he wanted freedom with someone else.

A musical laugh floated across the edges of the silver-haired First’s auditory senses, and he smiled somewhat wistfully. Genesis was...incredibly strong. He’d known he was physically strong, but his fellow soldier was strong emotionally in a way that he didn’t know if he could ever be. To learn that his origin, his namesake was a falsity only to be able to get up in the morning and laugh it away was an indicator of incredible tenuity. In the dark hours, when the older man was lying lax and languid against his body...contoured to him in a manner that was achingly intimate...Sephiroth envied him. He _envied_ him his ability to move forward, to persevere.

It seemed such a stupid, childish thing, really. Because his existence had never been something he’d ever been able to possess. From the moment he was born he’d been molded and shaped into what he was. There was no denying the truth of his origins. No, he’d been born into servitude...and while he held a large modicum of pride over what that servitude entailed...it didn’t change the truth of what it was. In some ways, he was the coward...because he’d never been strong enough to leave. Genesis had done that, had walked away from being something that was never his in the first place to rise to the top of an empire. The blue-eyed soldier wasn’t afraid to change himself in the face of what others expected of him. It felt like he, personally, was _eternally_ afraid, and therefore eternally confined.

A calloused palm rubbed over the knuckles of his right hand...beneath the table where the gesture remained unseen. Exhaling, dispelling his morbid thoughts, Sephiroth smiled as Genesis looked questioningly at him...shaking his head somewhat. Those blue eyes remained on him, narrowed in a way that said _‘We’ll talk later’_ before focusing on Angeal once more. The fingers over his, flexed slightly before squeezing tenderly and letting go.

In the face of his previous ruminations, the lack of contact felt like a terrible, hollow and free-falling loss.

He acted reflexively-without thought-lifting his arm to place a steadying hand on the redhead’s bicep, closing his eyes as warmth flooded back into his body. Angeal had stopped talking, but he couldn’t concentrate on that. Instead, he anchored himself to the touch, leaning sideways somewhat until his head was just shy of the Commander’s shoulder, the scent of leather and something distinctly _Genesis_ filling his olfactory senses as his hair spilled over a lean arm and onto the older man’s lap. The peace he felt there was familiar, but no less profound than any other time. And when he finally gathered his senses enough to stiffen and jerk back...the dark-haired First was looking at them consideringly. Nervous, anxious, assuming that he had done something awfully, _terribly_ wrong, Sephiroth lifted his head to stare into cerulean irises.

Genesis lips were parted somewhat, as if he was surprised by the gesture. It was, after all, the first time he’d actively sought comfort merely from non-sexual touch. He didn’t particularly know what had possessed him to do it, only that he felt that he _needed_ to or he was going to crawl out of his own skin. Then, slowly, the redhead’s expression melted into that of unfathomable softness. Crooked fingers brushed under his chin before grasping gently, a thumb swiping upwards across his cheekbone in reassurance. Something in the younger man relaxed, something horrified that was incurably apprehensive of overstepping any unspoken boundaries. Warm lips pressed against his forehead and the breath he didn’t know he was holding issued forth in a long, tremulous rush.

And then Angeal cleared his throat. “Ahem.” A loose fist hid most of the dark-haired First’s mouth but the right corner was twitching upward in a barely contained smirk? Smile? A dark eyebrow was raised questioningly as Genesis’ childhood friend watched their exchange in the immediate silence that only now made its presence known. And Sephiroth acknowledged, it wasn’t tangible and unwanted. When the scarlet-haired soldier settled back into his chair, the sky blue irises of the man on the opposite side of the table were darting between them, before settling on the Commander beside him, widening almost imperceptibly.

A short chuckle broke the tranquility as Genesis tilted his head, a strange smile stretching across those familiar lips, a slight flush rising up the pale column of his companion’s neck while he queried his childhood friend, his voice a lilting soft thing. “ _What?_ ”

From where he was sitting, Sephiroth could see that his second-in-commands were communicating without actually voicing anything. Something inside him rose at that, a bizarre feeling retaliating at the thought that despite his intimacy with the scarlet-haired man sitting by his side, there were things that were only meaningful between his companion and his childhood friend. That they went back all the way to early childhood years, while his friendship with them was only a decade old. And the silver-haired man found himself desiring to be a part of it, to be privy to whatever they were exchanging with seemingly encrypted gestures.

Trying to find a reason for that, the green-eyed First could only come up with the want to know his second-in-command better; or at least that’s what he told himself. Because the other alternative was what Sephiroth had forbidden himself to do. To possess. To possess the redhead and all and everything about him. To hold him every day and discover some new facet of the being that was Genesis Rhapsodos. A shudder ran down his spine, because no… He’d promised that he wouldn’t do that. The mere image of his fiery First behind the invisible bars of ownership was so wrong and jarring, because like he’d come to know back at Banora, the redhead was, in his opinion, a free spirit; wild and untamable like the color of those soft locks.

“Would you two care to explain just what the hell is going on?” Angeal’s voice and the warmth of long digits interlacing with his own under the table brought him back to present. The dark-haired First had his muscular arms crossed over his chest, looking at them expectantly.

Sephiroth was torn between falling back into the role of his second-in-command’s superior and debriefing the situation; or trying to formulate some comprehensible answer to explain it like an adult. A thumb was brushing the side of his index finger gently, and only then did the silver-haired man realize his knuckles had gone almost chalky from how hard he’d been clutching the hand holding his against his lap.

“Oh for Goddess’ sake, Angeal. Are you blind?” Genesis retorted irritably.

“I’m not blind, I’m simply not believing what I’m seeing. Have you both gone mad?” The raven-haired soldier’s eyes darted back to him. “Are you in on this with _him?_ ”

Sephiroth had just opened his mouth to speak when the man sitting in front of him raised both hands, continuing. “Wait. I think I already know…”

There was a vehement sigh as Angeal rubbed his forehead, weary lines edging slowly on his face before a finger was pointed toward Genesis. “ _You_ rushing to the front like an idiot to save him, and now you’re going on vacations together.” The grin the scarlet-haired soldier was wearing almost split his face in two as the Commander’s childhood friend paused. The dark-haired man’s stubbled face was growing more and more grim with each passing second, before he spoke again. “ _You were gonna start a riot for him._ ” Sky blue eyes turned to look in his direction. “He was gonna start a riot for you, did you know that? You went against protocol and now you’re outright disobeying orders. Is this how things are going to be? Starred First classes discharged from SOLDIER because…?”

“Because of love?” Sephiroth asked flatly.

This did not help matters.

Angeal appeared to be choking on something, maybe his tongue. And the silver-haired First didn't exactly understand why. Because wasn't love a good enough reason for them to be together despite their orders? Yes, what they were doing was risky and disobedient, but the level of emotion behind it had to count for something. It wasn't like they were flaunting themselves either, like other couples often did. And despite their regulatory restrictions, even if they _were_ able to have a public relationship, he didn't think either of them would want that. They were scrutinized by the media enough without the press speculating what positions they employed in the bedroom.

His mind drifted to a particularly vulgar article in the Upper-Lower Times that had waxed somewhat poetic on the possible proportions of his genitalia. Sephiroth shuddered. No that was _definitely_ not something either of them wanted. That still didn't explain the dark-haired soldier's anger. The green-eyed man frowned. Maybe Angeal was worried that Genesis wouldn't have time for their friendship now that he was in a relationship. That was understandable...though it didn't seem very like the individual before him. Then again, as far as he knew, the redhead had never had a serious relationship before. This was new ground for both of them, so it was perfectly feasible that they would need time to adjust their friendship accordingly. Reverting his focus to the current situation, Sephiroth was surprised to see Angeal looking like he wanted to murder someone; that someone being Genesis.

“Did you hear that?!” He snapped at the redhead. “He said he loves you, _the General_ said he loves you. Are you serious here Genesis?! We talked about how much damage you can do to people when you do this sort of thing. And I get the _'saving each other’_ dogma, but you're... you're…” Angeal was struggling. “I love you Genesis.” He said calmly. “You're my best friend but I also _know_ you, and I know how many broken hearts are strung behind you. And normally, I wouldn't say anything, but Sephiroth is my friend too and this-this.” He shook his head. “I hope you’re serious, I hope you’re both serious.” His glare turned to Sephiroth. “You as well, you're not exempt.”

Genesis’ grin had turned into a tense straight line, his eyes cold as ice by the time Angeal was finished. “You claim to _know_ me but all this time your head’s been so stuck up your protégé’s _ass_ that you didn’t even _realize_ what I was going through!” A tense silence settled between them, and Sephiroth could see sky blue eyes widen marginally as the redhead snapped yet again. “I’m tired of this shit that _everyone_ keeps throwing at my face. Now, that’s a low blow, _my friend_.” His companion’s melodious voice was a dangerous hiss. Without warning, the fiery First was nearly draped over the table, very much in Angeal’s face, and the silver-haired man wondered if he should yank him back, restrain him or something, because it was very likely that the raven-haired man’s head was going to end up on his chest when his partner was finished.

Those long fingers were clutching Genesis’ childhood friend’s collar. “Look at me. Can’t you see it? You, too, think I’m too far gone to be able to love?” Without waiting for an answer, the redhead let go, or rather pushed from the scraping sound of Angeal’s chair, and in almost a blink of an eye the scarlet-haired man was gone.

The raven-haired First seemed too stunned to be able to pull himself together; sitting there exactly the way the Commander had left him until another sigh passed his lips, and he covered his stubbled face with his large hands.

“Maybe...you should have asked what we were doing ‘on vacation’ before accusing Genesis of leading me on.” Sephiroth deadpanned, narrowing his eyes. “And I don’t need your protection.”

Slowly, that head of onyx hair shook back and forth.

“That’s not what I was doing.” Angeal said, his voice muffled by his hands. “You and Genesis are both my friends, like I said. And while I’ve known Genesis longer than you, that doesn’t change the fact that I care about both of you.”

The General raised a silver brow, the hand that had been previously clasped in now-absent fingers lifting to drum on the table. Pausing, he curled it into a fist before letting it lay flat.

“The sentiment doesn’t excuse what was said…” He said carefully. “...What was implied. And I’m not going to pretend to know Genesis as long as you have, but I don’t think he’s approached you with anyone like this before.”

Again, his fellow First shook his head before lifting it, gazing out onto the expanse that was Midgar with a weary expression...his brow furrowed.

“I know how Genesis is about his feelings.” He said at length. “They’re incredibly strong and passionate, but they can also be fleeting.” When the younger man opened his mouth to argue, he raised a hand. “Please, I’m not trying to demean him or suggest you end your relationship.” The wielder of the Buster Sword paused. “I think it scares me.” He muttered. “Not the idea of your relationship, but the consequences. You’re both incredibly relevant people in terms of SOLDIER, in terms of Shinra. I’m a loyal soldier, but I’m not stupid. I know what Hojo does to you in the labs, and I know how virulently oppressive Genesis’ ties to his parents are.” He spread his hands, looking down at them as if searching for an answer. “I support both of you, I should have said that right away but I didn’t think. What I _don’t_ support is the idea that you might be throwing away your lives. I get love, I do. But I’m a selfish man who loves his friends, and I’d rather be in a world where the two of you were happy and successful as comrades, than apart, imprisoned, and miserable as lovers.”

The verity of Angeal’s statement rang true. Not because he hadn’t considered it before, but because it was a real possibility. Frowning, Sephiroth looked at the table between them.

“There’s no guarantee that’s going to happen.” He replied.

“I know that.” Angeal said calmly. “I do. But I also know how surveillance works, how the Turks operate, and when you put those factors against what you’re trying to conceal…” He trailed off and didn’t continue.

He didn’t need to.

“We’ve both considered the parameters.” The General countered. “And while both of us know the risks are considerable, choosing to be apart is equally unattractive.”

“I get that.” The older man sighed. “But I’m worried...and you must forgive an old man for worrying.”

Sephiroth’s eyebrows disappeared into his hair.

“You’re not that old.”

Angeal laughed, his teeth flashing.

“Well, thank you. But I’m old enough to be granted discharge if I asked for it. And while I’ve not considered it yet, I know it’ll be much longer before Genesis does. So I worry for him, and I worry for you.” He tilted his head. “I’d say I should go apologize, but I don’t think it would work.”

The silver-haired soldier tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as he attempted to listen through the door of the balcony. Apparently, the Commander was still in the apartment, because the sound of the exhaust fan over the stove was apparent; as was the smell of cigarette smoke. He sighed inwardly, wondering despairingly how he’d already decided that he was going to play the middleman. Maybe it was just a desire to be close to Genesis, a desire that was becoming increasingly apparent. In some ways, it concerned him. Sephiroth rose and crossed the space between balcony railing and door, pausing a moment with his hand on the doorknob before stepping inside. Making his way through the bedroom, he descended back into his thoughts. He knew it was normal for newly established couples to feel a need to be close to each other, but their occupations didn’t allow for it...so that initial need was never fully sated. Currently, he didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

Genesis was indeed still in the apartment, and had apparently smoked his way through half a pack of cigarettes while he and Angeal were talking. Leaning against the stove, the redhead was the picture of quiet indignation; sapphire eyes were narrowed as he stared at the aquamarine numbers nestled in the interface to the rear of the burners. He tilted his head to acknowledge the silver-haired man’s entrance but didn’t speak. Approaching slowly, Sephiroth let his hand slide over the jut of a hip, letting his fingers rest there a moment as he gauged his companion’s response. When he wasn’t launched into the opposite wall, he leaned against his back, letting the other hand card through scarlet locks.

“I don’t think Angeal meant to hurt you.” Sephiroth said calmly. “It wasn’t right of him to say anything, but he doesn’t know what went on between when we left and when we returned.”

The man in his arms let out a shaky breath, elegant fingers extinguishing the cigarette they were holding in an ashtray. Genesis let his head drop, carding a hand through his short tresses that now smelled of smoke and tar before whispering. “I know…” There was a short pause. “And he’s right by the way. I have this habit of hurting everyone, but you already know that. Witnessed it firsthand. I don’t even spare my best friend…”

There was the sound of chair legs scraping against the floor of the balcony and the Commander abruptly turned toward it, their connection broken, a look of regret and sadness flashing in those sapphire pools as the older man gazed at the direction of the sound. Breaking free from him, Genesis quickly strode out to the bedroom, throwing that same glance that Sephiroth had come to know as _‘Thanks for understanding’_ over his shoulder as he said “Let me talk to him.”

So the silver-haired man leant back against the edge of the white granite countertop, his long hair cascading over his shoulder as he absentmindedly looked down at the numerous cigarette butts laying haphazardly in the black receptacle. Sephiroth could almost make out what his second-in-commands were saying out there on the balcony without even having to try… It felt like that day back in Mideel when he’d overheard Genesis’ conversation with his foster-father. There were really no similarities to be drawn, only that the green-eyed soldier had been privy to something he probably shouldn’t have. It vaguely occurred to him that he could go out, but as soon as the thought lighted up in his mind, it was put out.

_“I shouldn’t have said that… Everyone just keeps telling me that, and I’m just **sick** of it…”_

_“I’m sorry, but you already know I didn’t mean anything…”_

_“I-...”_

_“Listen to me, Gen. My mentoring Zack doesn’t mean that I can’t or don’t want or don’t have enough time to spend time with you. And don’t try denying it because I know you and I know when you’re withdrawing from people. Don’t do that to us, and don’t do that to Sephiroth. He deserves better than that-...”_

_“ **You think I don’t know that?!** Goddess you _ **_bastard_ ** _! I don’t even know_ **_you_ ** _anymore-...”_

_“Gen, Gen! I know you love him… I just had doubts because emotions aren’t easy with you. I don’t want you to think you have no one to turn to and to project that loneliness in your relationship-...”_

_“Pfft, loneliness.”_

There was the static white noise of silence. Sephiroth hadn’t even noticed when his fingers had picked up the half-finished cigarette Genesis had been smoking, of their own accord, which was now being rolled between his knuckles.

_“I want you to know that no matter what happens, I’m still here for you. For the both of you. This, my protégé, nothing changes that. I love you, but Sephiroth is my friend too. I don’t want to see either of you miserable because of this thing you’ve started… So, please -and I’m asking you as a brother would- take a step back and think this through, both of you. Because I can’t stop worrying about what would happen to Sephiroth if your love was to burn too hot and too fast. I kno-...”_

_“Fuck off Ang...”_

_“Gen-...”_

_“Just... fuck off.”_

There was more silence before the heavy drum of Angeal’s boots started drawing closer and closer, and soon the raven-haired man emerged from the bedroom. Sephiroth looked up at him, but judging by the expression that fleeted over the older man’s strong features, his fellow First knew that he’d probably heard the entirety of their exchange. A resigned but genuine smile crinkled the corners of the sky blue eyes before he spoke. “I know you probably find it hard to believe, but I’m really happy for you.” Looking over his shoulder, the sable-haired man continued. “Both of you. I wish you the best.”

If they weren’t separated by the vast expanse of Genesis’ living room, the older man would have probably given him a friendly pat on the back. Knowing this, Sephiroth nodded his head and watched him go, heard the door click shut after him; and the all-encompassing silence heralded the return of his thoughts. He knew-inwardly-that it would be a short lived argument. Angeal wasn’t an aggressor and the redhead’s frustration would eventually peter off with nothing to fuel it. Still...he couldn’t help but feel a little bit responsible for the rift between them. After all, if he hadn’t encouraged the Commander’s advances, they might still be getting along. Looking at the floor, the silver-haired man swallowed. Was he really worth this to Genesis? It seemed so much to ask of him...to have him defend them at the cost of a lifelong friendship.

Sephiroth had never had friends, so he couldn’t fathom what it was like to lose one. His second-in-command had always spoken fondly of Angeal, but he’d never been truly able to grasp that fondness. Could he safely step between something so tangible without understanding it? Was that fair to anyone other than himself? The green-eyed First eyed his scarlet-haired companion unhappily. In the future, would Genesis resent the fact that their relationship had caused such dissent? Angeal might have been right about at least ‘stepping back’, because obviously he hadn’t ‘stepped back’ to consider how much potential he carried to irreversibly damage the standing and reputation of the man he loved. And the fact that he _loved_ him was not an excuse to _ruin_ him.

“I’m so sorry Gen.” he murmured. “This is my fault.”

The way those azure pools iced over in an instant was both at the same time thrilling and terrifying. Genesis stood there just a couple of steps over the threshold of his bedroom door, and starting to look positively livid?

“And what is it that’s your fault?” And the way the redhead spoke was like Sephiroth was some unfortunate Third who might have accidentally thrown an unmastered Fira at the Commander and singed a few strands of fiery hair.

“This...divide, between you and Angeal.” He muttered, deciding if he was going to to dig his own grave, he might as well dig it fast. “If I hadn't touched you...he wouldn't know.” He gestured helplessly. “We didn't discuss if we were ready to share this, and I made that decision without your consent.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I'm not exactly a novice when it comes to relationships, but I do know that making a relationship public is a joint decision.”

Green eyes were shielded behind milky lids as the General worried his lip.

“I was thinking about how I've never made a decision for myself, until you. I've never had a problem with it before...never really thought about it...but when I looked at it objectively, I realized how _pathetic_ that is.” Sephiroth laughed and shook his head. “It's not exactly realistic because I've never known anything else, but...maybe I should have been stronger, sooner.”

The silver-haired soldier opened his eyes and exhaled.

“You've always known what you wanted and how to get it, but I've always failed in terms of action. I envy you that.” Sephiroth smiled and chuckled, looking affectionately at Genesis. “And I realized, in that moment, that I understood a little bit of how you felt...when we used to fight...before we ever considered a relationship. Because under that envy was respect, admiration, and the desire to be equal not because of wanting to surpass you, but because I want to be able to _give_ to you on that level of self-assurance.” The younger man looked down. . “When I realized that, I just acted, it was impulse to touch you, I _needed_ to tou-” He broke off. “...It's a bit convoluted, but I felt I should explain the thought process, not because not asking your permission was right, but... just so you know I didn't do it intending to overstep you.”

Warm calloused hands cradled the sides of his face, thumbs gently caressing the hollows under his ears as Genesis just stood there and looked at him. The visage of the redhead was closed-off, completely, not passing anything through to at least reassure him that the Commander wasn’t going to throw him outside the floor-to-ceiling windows to his immediate demise.

Haltingly, tentatively, Sephiroth placed his hands over his second-in-command’s hips, sighing inwardly with relief that he wasn’t going to get Firaga’ed to the adjacent apartment. Pearlescent teeth were biting the scarlet-haired man’s lower lip while their owner tilted his unruly fiery head, a treacherous smile crawling slowly on the pale features as sapphire gems kept getting veiled and unveiled behind a curtain of auburn lashes.

“As much as I enjoy seeing you getting all flustered over practically nothing, and as much as I’d love to know what‘s going through that brilliant _brilliant_ head of yours, I’m starting to tire from you _constantly_ apologizing for things you had nothing to do with.” Sephiroth was about to protest, explain, make him understand, but the light slow swipe of a thumb across his lips silenced him. “There is no divide between me and Angeal. And even if there was, we’d be able to get over it…” Genesis hung his head for a moment, his eyes downcast. “And if I hadn’t wanted him to know, I wouldn’t have touched you back.” There was a moment’s pause, heavy despite its brevity. “In another world, in another life perhaps, I wouldn’t have minded letting every single soul know about us; but I just can’t unsee what I saw last time Hojo touched you.” Lines were forming on that pale forehead, and those elegant fingers trailed down the sides of his throat, settling just on the apex where his shoulders met the pale strong column of his neck, their touch so faint it could’ve not been there at all. “I _need_ you to promise me. Two things.”

And Sephiroth couldn’t see those eyes now to know what, just what was going through his fellow First’s head. Sometimes it was incredibly _hard_ to know what was going through the older man’s head even when he _was_ looking at him. Because as far as soul-baring moments were, this had been a dud. For him, at least. He cocked an eyebrow. And-in retrospect-he _had_ been trying to get away with apologeticness in a manner that didn’t land him in a salon getting an inch of charred hair trimmed from his head. All things considered, it had gone about as well as he’d hoped. Because he knew better than to expect Genesis to swoon over his words; he was, after all, the poet in their relationship. And it was incredibly unfair of him to group him and Angeal in the same category when it came to the redhead’s emotions. Looking at it from that angle...he could understand why the blue-eyed First was so upset. Sighing, he placed a gentle hand on Genesis shoulder.

“And what might those two things be?” He asked quietly.

“That’s not how I do things Sephiroth, and you know that.” There was a flicker of mischievousness blazing in those blue irises before it vanished as though it’d never been.

The last time Sephiroth had blindly promised Genesis something, they had ended up in Banora; and even though he had no regrets seeing how everything unfolded by the end of their stay, the silver-haired man couldn’t deny the emotional turmoil his second-in-command had undergone, and how the Rhapsodos had nearly dragged their relationship to the brink of an endless abyss. A shudder ran down his spine as he thought about all the possible ways his _talk_ with the redhead could have gone awry. They could have been over before they’d actually started.

Going into promises blindly had never seemed like a very sensible thing to him. He knew-logically-that this was a test of trust. He didn’t want to fail that test, but he also didn’t want to promise something that he couldn’t give. Narrowing his eyes, he thought back to the clauses he’d set when they’d first begun the relationship. Genesis knew better than to expect more of him than what he was able to provide. That much, at least, he was fully aware of. Moreover, expecting him to do anything of the sort was unfair in terms of what they’d built together. Lowering his head, Sephiroth just-barely brushed their lips together before pulling back and examining the aeonian visage before him. The redhead was serious, even behind the smirk...he was serious.

“I have one condition.” He said slowly. “That you remember what I asked you, in the beginning. That you don’t ask anything of me that you cannot give in return. So if I promise you this, I want your promise of the same in equal standing.”

The smirk on those lush lips widened, and for a brief moment it seemed the redhead was contemplating his words, before quickly saying. “Alright.”

Sephiroth could see from the playfulness creeping across the older man’s face that his companion was up to something. But he’d already stated his terms and they couldn’t be taken back, especially when the blue-eyed First had accepted them. Nodding his agreement despite the voice of caution in his head, he waited for his companion to speak.

“I want you to let me come to Hojo with you, or at least for you to _tell_ me before you’re going in.” This wasn’t at all what he’d been expecting. And as if sensing his surprise, Genesis quickly continued. “And I want you to stop overthinking everything.” A palm gently splayed over his heart. “Trust yourself, me, _us_ , and we’ll be fine.” Azure eyes were boring into his when the man in front of him finished, expecting.

But it was _not_ fine.

Because Sephiroth already had an appointment with Hojo scheduled for next week, and more than likely for several weeks after that. Shinra might have been willing to let his absence go, but that was only because they knew that their head scientist was nowhere near as forgiving. Genesis hadn’t seen the majority of the damage done to him the last time. He knew that as much as he wanted to tell himself otherwise, it would be a major issue if he knew exactly what his ward was doing to him. The redhead would be-if possible-angrier than he’d been when he found him lying in a crumpled heap in his apartment. And he had _agreed_ without even thinking that the Commander would take that angle. He’d been expecting him to tell him to stop overthinking everything, maybe even to stop apologizing...but not this. Genesis was watching him contemplatively as if gauging the emotions that he knew were flitting across his face.

“I...don’t have any upcoming appointments at the moment.”

The hands on his face went very still, and the older man’s expression was shrewd. The well of despair in his chest became a gaping hole, because Sephiroth was _lying._ He was lying to the man he loved, but he didn’t see any other way out of it. Genesis couldn’t know this. Couldn’t know what he was trying to do to preserve their already tenuous position. Administration was already breathing down his neck in terms of his every day duties, and if the older man insisted that he couldn’t go to Hojo anymore, it would affect both of them. Sephiroth was not an individual with the freedom of individuality, not to any great extent. He could like black coffee, long showers and steak, but he didn’t have the freedom of walking away.

In order to distract from the complete and utter desolation in his heart, the silver-haired First leaned down and captured smooth lips. His companion stiffened for a moment, his mouth immobile before he slowly began to respond, parting for him until the fingers on his cheeks were digging in slightly. Genesis kissed him hard, like he was angry and confused at the same moment; and the slight tremble that ran up his body was less from desire and more from a kind of apprehensive dread. Sephiroth couldn’t blame him, he felt much the same. And it felt distinctly bizarre, because usually Genesis was the one keeping secrets. But even though everything about it was wrong, he knew that the decision he’d made was right. If this was going to work, sacrifices had to be made.

He’d just never expected to sacrifice his honesty.

“I love you.” Sephiroth said hoarsely, trying to quell the guilt that was threatening to choke him.

“...Everything’s going to be alright.”


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Glossy papers were fluttering to the ground from where he sat on the stool by his piano.

Photographs.

Genesis had bought one of those instant cameras that developed the film right after the photo was taken. The one his long fingers were currently holding was the first photo he’d taken. It was when he’d barged into Sephiroth’s office, completely unannounced and *click*, he’d taken the photo. The smallest hint of a smile tugged on his lips. The silver-haired man hadn’t been amused in the least.

Soon, it, too, joined the myriad of photographs at his feet. The redhead hadn’t been able to stop capturing photos of them since he’d gotten the device. Awkward poses; Sephiroth sleeping on the bed, or maybe lying on the bed actually, because you couldn’t just sneak up on the demon of Wutai without having your head lobbed off.

Intimate ones, where both of them had been lying in each other’s arms… Genesis remembered how badly his hand shook when he was trying to take that photo, both from how exhilarated he’d been and from the tiny tremors of his afterglow. With the tip of his finger, he traced the profile of Sephiroth’s face; the younger man had been kissing his forehead. Their sated euphoric expressions did weird things to the redhead’s heart, but he had to let this photo go too.

The time was 22:38 on the dim cracked screen of his phone where it lay forgotten on the sleek black surface behind him.

His head was a mess. A roiling mess that he himself couldn’t make any sense out of. Somewhere an alarm clock was going off about something he’d been supposed to do tonight, but it was too faint, too far away that Genesis couldn’t bring himself to care.

He’d gone to Hollander’s office just before lunch to ask him about his ‘space-out’s, not blackouts as the scientist had corrected him. The professor had informed him, that Sephiroth’s speculations about it being related to emotional distress were also correct, though what really caused it was not exactly known yet. For good measure, Genesis had asked him to give him a complete checkup, blood tests, scans, everything.

With the syringe tapping into his blood vessel, the redhead had brought up the adoption issue. It’d been both revolting and interesting to see how those chubby fingers had shook, nearly rupturing the vein where Hollander had been taking his blood. Genesis really hadn’t heard anything after that really, if the professor had spoken that is. He’d just sat it through like a ghost, like some machine on autopilot.

The scientist had known it too. All along, and he’d said nothing. Well, not that the scarlet-haired First had expected him to. Hell, he didn’t expect anything from anyone anymore.

When all was said and done, Genesis had extricated himself from the labs; he’d been just about to pass those double-doors when he’d heard it; his name being whispered in a hushed angry tone. And the redhead had never heard Hollander be angry before.

For once he’d been grateful that the scientist was actually an outcast because he simply had no assistants, unlike Hojo; despite the fact that no one could’ve caught him eavesdropping, he’d barely breathed, barely moved, frozen in his place. Hollander had been talking to his parents.

A sneer curled his lips.

Not his parents. Foster-parents. If they could be called that even.

The old man had thought that the Rhapsodos had told him about it, which really was insulting. And next, he’d threatened that Shinra would cut off the whole collaborative subsidy if Genesis were to find out about Project G as well.

The name had cut through his stupor like lightning.

He hadn’t lingered to overhear the rest of their exchange; he’d canceled everything in his schedule for the rest of the day and holed himself up in the archives. The redhead had been boring a hole in the metal desk in front of him, unsure of what to search for. Because it was obvious that whatever this Project G was, Shinra didn’t want him to find out. And when people didn’t want Genesis Rhapsodos to do anything, he’d be hellbent on doing it. But he had to be careful. He had to be discreet, because he was one step away from being discharged for good, and the scarlet-haired man hadn’t worked so hard all his life to have it vanish in smoke in the blink of an eye.

Besides. Now, it wasn’t just his career that was at stake. If he were to be discharged, he’d lose Sephiroth; he’d lose any means of contacting him, and worse, he wouldn’t be able to know what was happening to the silver-haired First, especially after those times he had to face Hojo.

Genesis had asked the younger man to promise him about a week ago, and despite his misgivings, despite that feeling in his gut that told him something was amiss, he’d let it go; because the scarlet-haired soldier trusted Sephiroth. He trusted him well before they’d started being together; and with his life.

In the end, he’d settled to search for his own name, file, whatever they had on Genesis Rhapsodos, only to face an ‘Access Denied’ warning. The redhead had tried it a couple more times, because this was simply ridiculous. Not being able to open his own records with his level of clearance was just ridiculous.

He’d left the place in a huff with enough anger that he’d run through the first hundred training simulations for Firsts in about three hours before the technicians had to crash the VR around him because apparently “others were scheduled to use the facility” and “the servers were heating up”. Which had brought him back to his own apartment, where he’d received that damned phone call.

Genesis wanted to scream, wanted to tear out his hair.

He was relieved none of the photos were in his hands at the moment because the way his fingernails were digging through his palms, there would soon be blood under the white trimmed crescents.

He had hurled the phone at the wall, where there was a fairly prominent dent now. Before that, he’d clutched it just so tightly the screen had cracked. And before that, his _father_ had threatened him to either come out with the truth about his relationship with Sephiroth himself, or Mortimer Rhapsodos would do it for him.

Genesis had laughed; he’d told the old man that he was bluffing. But deep down, he knew that this was no joke.   
  
It all made sense.

Despite the enjoyment he’d felt to realize his foster-father had simply panicked from Hollander’s threat enough to resort to such petty underhanded tricks, now he was feeling extremely nauseous. Because this wasn’t what they needed at the moment. Because this simply wasn’t fair.

The professor had threatened his foster-parents with the same large sum of money he’d found the receipt for in the paperwork his ‘father’ had brought them back in Mideel. Thinking back about it, it was really weird how such an important thing had ended up there. Mortimer Rhapsodos was an organized man as far as Genesis knew him. It was something that belonged to that very safe hidden under the bookcase. In fact he’d seen a dozen more of those receipts as he’d searched through the documents that day. Someone had to have deliberately put it there… But why? If it was something his ‘sires’ had done, the blue-eyed man was sure there was the possibility they’d thought it would garner them more money, but their plans must have backfired…  His head was hurting from all the thoughts that were running simultaneously in it. For a moment, he wished that he could just close his eyes and forget, to make it go away. But his mind was relentless. The collaborative subsidy was huge enough to make his foster-parents desperate to find a means of replacing it, and what other thing better than being the sires of Shinra’s finest’s _boyfriend_ … Oh, the stories they could conjure and the way the press and subsequently fans would greedily lap it up, considering how both he and Sephiroth had always been rather discreet in terms of their personal affairs.

The older man didn’t know if they had proof, but they really didn’t need any. First off, Mortimer Rhapsodos was the mayor of Banora and a man adhering to the image of having a well-rounded family; logically, it wouldn’t be to his benefit to go around spreading rumors about his son’s dalliances. And with the amount of money and influence his foster-father had, it was just enough for one of the highly esteemed magazines in Midgar to _‘buy’_ that news. And once it was out, there was no taking it back. The Commander just didn’t want to think about the alternatives of how the story the Rhapsodos were going to feed to the press about _their relationship_ might change into other things outside their control if his ‘parents’ had a say in this. _That_ didn’t help his imminent urge of wanting to be sick at all.

Shinra would probably try covering it up, because this wasn’t what they would want either. But the press would still have their field day, regardless. And Genesis really didn’t care about the press or Shinra. What he couldn’t stop thinking about was the consequences that’d be awaiting them once the sandstorm had settled. Because last time, they had faced discharge, and Sephiroth had been confined in solitary for a week. Then, the redhead had found the silver-haired man bleeding to death a few steps away from his bed…

A shudder ran down his spine, a savage pain tearing at his insides as the images flashed in front of his eyes.

They wouldn’t survive this. At least, his career wouldn’t survive this. And he really didn’t want to think what Hojo would do to Sephiroth this time.

If only they could run away together. Just run away with their lives and never look back.

Shinra wouldn’t stop hunting them down. They’d probably end up being far more miserable. Or maybe not…

Running his hands through his hair, he clutched the short locks, hard enough for it to be painful before letting go.

This wasn’t working. He had to tell Sephiroth. His brain was simply too addled to make any decisions, and this wasn’t something he could figure out on his own. This was about _their_ future. Their. Together.

The time it took for him to get up from his seat to stand in front of Sephiroth’s door, he spent in a haze. Trying to come up with anything, any way to go around this, but he kept drawing up blanks. His phone was in his hand, showing 23:04, and Genesis wondered for a moment if the silver-haired man was awake. Raising his other hand to knock, the scarlet-haired soldier hesitated, because there was another thing he’d been meaning to ask the younger man, something… something…

With a dazed, muted surprise, he realized that it was the General’s clearance to access the archives. Because if Sephiroth couldn’t access those files, then they were simply beyond his reach. He couldn’t go around asking Lazard or anyone else to authorize him to use the records.

Genesis knocked, suddenly overwhelmed by a desire to be held by those strong arms and forget everything that had happened today… Just let it slip, let it float on the water’s surface, quietly but surely… And why was it taking the silver-haired man so long to answer the door? The redhead tried the doorbell, cringing at the shrill awful sound it made.

For a moment, the Commander thought he heard a groan from inside the General’s quarters. A frown creased his brow. “Sephiroth?” Genesis called, knocking yet again while searching his pants pockets for the spare keycard the silver-haired man had given him before the lock mechanism clicked open from the other side. There was something that sounded like a muttered curse, and then the door swung open.

The redhead’s first initial reaction was alarm.

Because Sephiroth looked awful, and it took a lot for Sephiroth to look awful. Even for the late hour...he was unacceptably terrible-looking. In a weird way, Genesis sympathized because he _felt_ awful, but there was a hell of a lot of difference between appearance and mentality. There were deep shadows under the General’s eyes, and he initially appeared to be favoring his left side; though he quickly straightened in the face of Genesis’ scrutiny. His hair was tied back, though not in a particularly orderly manner; and there was a glaze to his gaze indicative of either nausea or fatigue...perhaps both...it really wasn’t possible to tell. Leaning heavily on the doorframe, the younger man smiled regardless.

“Genesis.” He said, and there was a ragged lilt to his voice that the Commander didn’t entirely like. Green eyes traversed his face and silver brows furrowed somewhat. “Is everything alright?” Caught between demanding what was wrong and saying that _no_ everything was not alright, the redhead struggled with himself. “Come in.” His fellow First said hastily, stepping back and indicating for him to step through. Upon his entry, Sephiroth closed the door and hesitated before heading to the kitchen. “I wasn’t expecting you.” He continued, sounding at once apologetic and apprehensive. “I’m going to have lunch, if you’ll join me.” Stopping at the entryway, he turned back in time to see the redhead open his mouth to refuse. An indulgent smile pulled at his lips and he shook his head. “Indulge me.” He murmured, cutting him off. “I know you haven’t eaten.”

Genesis scowled, but eventually huffed and nodded in assent. Sephiroth chuckled wearily and disappeared from view. Inside the apartment, there was a faint coppery tang to the air. This was layered under what the older man assumed was a mountainous accumulation of cleaning fluid. Frowning, the blue-eyed First tried to dispel the sense of unease that accosted him along with everything that had happened so far that day. In the kitchen, the sound of the microwave was a soft backdrop...as was the slow manner in which his companion was pulling down plates and utensils...as if wary of moving too quickly or abruptly. Clenching his fists, Genesis sat down at the dining room table, hugging himself with his arms. Fine. If Sephiroth wanted to have secrets...that was fine. He had enough to worry about as it was. He trusted the man enough not to question his motives.

The General’s apartment was fairly simple. To the right of the entrance was your standard living room with a widescreen TV and brown leather furniture that was a bit dated. There were nondescript paintings on the walls...mostly for show and somewhat impersonal. To the right was the kitchen; with a doorless entryway open to the living room. Once inside, the floor swept to the left somewhat in order to contour to the HQ’s architectural design. Genesis knew from memory that most of the surfaces were chrome. Directly opposite the front door was a narrow hallway with three doors; the left one led to Sephiroth’s bedroom and bathroom, and the right was an at-home office of sorts. Neither were particularly remarkable, though he supposed that he shouldn’t be surprised. In the center was what he assumed was a storage closet, he’d never looked.

‘Lunch’ was an easy affair; sandwiches and some type of vegetable chips. It had surprised him at first, the knowledge that his lover could cook. Though he supposed that it really shouldn’t have, considering how the man hated eating in the cafeteria. The few times that he did, he was swarmed with initiates trying to have a word with the Great General Sephiroth. At the time, he’d sneered in distaste, but he knew better now. They spoke at length of Wutai, of movement on the front and projected battle plans. Genesis participated hollowly, because the truth of the matter was that it was entirely possible neither of them would see combat again...let alone Wutai. He was barely able to stomach his sandwich, but he finished it regardless...he wasn’t going to shun the silver-haired soldier’s efforts in question of making him a proper meal.

As they spoke, Sephiroth seemed to slowly recover. Gradually, he straightened...became less conscious of his movement, and the look of discomfort and nausea disappeared. Relieved, Genesis acknowledged that the green-eyed First must have been hungry and tired. That was understandable, considering both of them sometimes pulled all-nighters to finish paperwork. Inwardly, he made a note to remind his fellow First not to push himself too hard...because he didn’t want to see him looking like that ever again. When they’d finished, the younger man took their plates and shepherded them into the dishwasher. Upon his return, he gestured for the redhead to take a seat on the couch before moving to what Genesis knew was his liquor cabinet. Settling, he raised a scarlet brow, because it was a bit...late-he glanced at the clock, it was 0100-early...to have a drink...but he had enough on his mind that he wasn’t going to say no.

“It’s not exactly traditional, but I took this from a town we captured in Wutai.” Sephiroth muttered, setting a bottle of what appeared to be wine on the coffee table before them. “They call it _umeshu_ ; it’s a local drink. Very sweet...which I normally don’t prefer, but it’s tame enough to excuse the early hour.”

A frown seemed to weigh down his eyebrows and no matter what he did, the redhead just wasn’t able to make it go away. Something was niggling his mind, some uneasy thing that he knew he had to comment on but he’d forgotten. And it had nothing to do with the things Genesis had wanted to tell Sephiroth at all. As the silver-haired man poured two glasses for them, the blue-eyed soldier settled back in the plush seat, trying to review the events since he’d set foot inside his lover’s apartment, until something clicked in his head.

Puckering his lips and raising an elegant eyebrow, the scarlet-haired man looked at his companion appraisingly. “ _Lunch_ , Seph?” His mouth was hanging open somewhat before he had to close it, a wave of nausea rising up inside him before it ebbed.

The green-eyed man paused, panic flashed across his gaze before he could stop it, before his eyes cut to the clock the redhead had glanced at mere moments ago. For a split second, he seemed to be at a loss, but then a magnanimous smile spread across his face. Handing Genesis a glass, he took the remaining one for himself before sitting down next to him. Fiddling with whatever was holding his hair up, he let it down and swept it to the side so it could fall over the shoulder furthest from him. The Commander thought he caught a faint pinkish tinge in one of the strands before the younger man shifted and it disappeared.

“Slip of the tongue.” The General murmured, taking a sip of his drink and waving a hand. “With all the paperwork Administration has seen fit to throw at me, finding time to eat is difficult.” His face took on a guilty expression that-in the redhead’s opinion-wasn’t entirely virtuous. “I shouldn’t have pushed you into it, if you weren’t hungry.”

And Genesis believed him. Because he was the one at fault here. If he hadn’t convinced Sephiroth to go with him to Mideel, none of this would have happened. If he hadn’t convinced him yet again to come to Banora with him, this stupid threat wouldn’t be hanging over their heads like the Sword of Damocles. Maybe their being together had been a mistake… maybe he was in fact ruining the silver-haired man.

The General had told him in Wutai that he’d been distracted. Right after their photo was published in the newspaper and the Commander had forced both of them to endure some time apart. Every single step of their relationship, Genesis had been fucking things up and Sephiroth had to pick up the mess that followed the redhead wherever he went…

It was the third option, the way around the whole catastrophe he had brought upon them. If their relationship was nonexistent by the time the news circulated to Midgar after his foster-parents had released it to the press, his lover didn’t have to suffer. No more excessive paperwork, no more torture by that madman. And by that time, Genesis would make sure to get himself transferred to Junon, so his friends didn’t have to pick up the billion pieces he was going to shatter into.

But Goddess, he couldn’t just do this… He loved the younger man…

Reaching forward to pluck the glass from the table, he fell short, the gaping pain inside him too intense that instead he just doubled over his legs, tangling his fingers in his own hair and tugging on them hard enough to make him choke on a gasp. Because nothing was alright. Nothing.

“ _Gen?_ You alright?” That deep baritone was filled with so much worry as a hand gently settled on his shoulder.

And he was having yet another fucking breakdown in front of Sephiroth. And his partner was definitely too fucking exhausted to have to deal with this.

So, Goddess give him strength.

Exhaling deeply, Genesis straightened quickly that the man sitting beside him had to pull back his hand as though he’d been burnt.

“We have to end this.” The redhead stated curtly.

If his fellow First had looked pale when he’d arrived, he was even paler now. Those long, long fingers slipped on his glass and the look that traversed his features was one of _incredulity._ For a brief, panicked moment, the Commander was afraid that the younger man was going to pass out...because he swayed slightly before his expression became unreadable. Knocking back his drink, Sephiroth shifted away from him...his posture stiff and unwelcoming. Those brilliant eyes looked at him with an expression that was almost akin to disdain before he appeared to lose all will to keep face; setting his now-empty glass on the counter and drawing his knees up...his head falling forward until his hair obscured his face.

“I...understand.” He said dully, refusing to look at him.

And that was _not_ the reaction he’d been expecting.

Genesis looked confusedly at the individual apparently trying to disappear into the couch beside him. At the very least, he’d anticipated that the younger man was going to get angry, that he was going to accuse the redhead of leading him on ‘like the rest of his lovers.’ He’d been expecting something akin to what Angeal had thrown at him a few days before. That he could have worked with. He’d have had an excuse to get angry, an excuse to storm out of the General’s apartment never to return. Now, he didn’t have anything to work with except guilt...because Sephiroth was acting like he’d expected this, like he _deserved_ it. What was he supposed to do with a reaction like that?! He couldn’t work with that! Yelling, name-calling, all that he could turn into something that worked to both their benefits. Now, he didn’t have anything except the fact that he was being an asshole to someone who clearly didn’t know their own worth, at all.

It took a moment for Genesis to collect himself enough to be able to form coherent sentences. “No, no, you don’t understand. Goddammit. I’m such an _idiot_.” The redhead stood up from his seat only to kneel back down at the silver-haired man’s feet. He wanted to see his face, and Sephiroth would have to actually kick him out his window in order to stop him. Prying those hands away from strong legs, the Commander was faced with resistance. But that only made him more determined to get through to his lover, even if they had to end up in infirmary by the time tonight was over.

“Sephiroth, stop it!” Genesis pleaded. “Let me see your face.” He knew that the General wasn’t fragile, and he wasn’t intending to break him, so he yanked those hands away before pulling on muscular shins. _Finally._ But the moment his blue eyes landed on that pale face, the younger man looked away, crossing his arms over his chest, and that was fine. Well, not really fine, because his lover had the blankest expression Genesis had seen to ever cross those gorgeous features. This he could deal with.

“My parents called me… I messed up… They’re threatening me to…” Genesis wanted to laugh at the same time that he wanted to cry. Because this was _pathetic_. Because a business man had no right to threaten two of the strongest people on Gaia. “I don’t want you to suffer any more than you already have because I keep fucking things up.”

Slowly, green eyes narrowed before snapping back to him. And it was ridiculous to think that Sephiroth looked _grumpy,_ but that was the only word for it.

“So that’s what this is about.” He muttered. “If I recall correctly,” He continued slowly. “We had this conversation a few days ago, simply in reverse.” Unfolding himself in a tangle of arms and legs, he leaned forward until they were almost nose-to-nose. “So I’m going to tell you what you told me...or as close to it as I’m currently able.” Sephiroth reached forward and cupped Genesis’ cheek with his right hand. “I didn’t get into this relationship without knowledge of the consequences or risks. And the fact that you’re assuming I did is rather insulting.” Threading his left hand through thick scarlet hair, he tilted his head. “That being said, unless you’ve somehow gotten me signed up to train with The Puppy for a month, I highly doubt you’ve ‘fucked things up’ as you’ve stated.” The younger man’s voice dropped to a growl. “So tell me what your ‘parents’ threatened you with, and we’ll deal with it, together.”

A nervous smile curled his lips without his permission, because honestly Genesis had expected everything but not this. If insulting Sephiroth, which wasn’t at all what he’d intended, resulted in this, the redhead wrote himself a mental note to do it more often; that’s if they were to see each other again after their ship went down. Looping his hands around the silver-haired man’s neck, he pressed a firm kiss under the hollow of his ear before burrowing his head in the soft waterfall of the man’s mane, breathing him in as he closed his eyes, his voice barely audible. “I don’t want to lose you…”

Despite the awkwardness of their position, the Commander held onto his lover for what seemed at the same time too short, and at the same time a small eternity, before finally whispering against the smooth texture of his fellow First’s neck. “They… want us to go public, or they’ll do it for us…” An ugly sneer twisted his face as he pulled back, sitting on his ankles and looking at the floor, because this was even more ridiculous spoken out loud. “I don’t care about the press or Shinra. But they’re going to throw me out and push you back in Hojo’s custody. That’s what’s gonna happen.”

Instead of stiffening and acting horrified, the General grew thoughtfully quiet. The hand in his hair lowered somewhat to cup the base of his head as the younger man processed the information given to him. Then, quietly he laughed. The redhead stiffened, because apparently Sephiroth had gone absolutely insane. This was not something to laugh about; this was their lives that were on the line. He couldn’t go home and essentially line himself up to be an overseer….which was exactly what his father would want and expect of him. The mere idea of it was completely disgusting. Genesis also couldn’t go home with the knowledge that Sephiroth was going to be thrown into a dark cell and left to rot. That was not going to work for him.

“Let them.” He murmured, and the Commander was accosted with the urge to smack some sense into him...because was he _serious?!_ “Genesis.” He said urgently. “We can’t keep running from this. The press might make it into a spectacle, but the people are going to support it, and the men don’t care about this sort of thing; they just care that we get them home. Shinra is only going to be able to do so much in terms of discipline.” He smirked. “And this is the only time you’ll get to hear me say this, but I _am_ Shinra’s greatest asset. If they get rid of me, they lose the war. If they get rid of you, they lose the people and the men. Right now, it’s not a smart move to do anything permanent to us. And maybe Hojo will call me down for more appointments, but I told you, you can come with me. There’s not really anything to lose.”

He wanted to argue, he really did. But he knew that in some way, Sephiroth was right. They couldn’t run from this forever. Eventually they were going to get discovered, and he was much more partial to living their lives publically with some retribution than privately with a massive amount of retribution. Trying to ‘save’ Sephiroth from this was unrealistic, because then both of them would simply go on as they had before...and he knew that neither of them wanted that. And, obviously, the younger man was okay with people finding out; which, he had to admit, was deeply flattering. Because it indicated that the General was confident and comfortable enough to go public with him. And, really, if Shinra didn’t appreciate their relationship, they would at least have to appreciate their honesty.

Some small part of him was jealous that instead of him being the pigheaded rebel Angeal used to call him, the silver-haired man was the one who actually wanted to take that leap for both of them. But then, Genesis also felt proud, as much a man like him could. Because his lover was really really going against the shackles the company had been coiling around him for his whole life. The scarlet-haired soldier wanted to see more of this new Sephiroth; to see him enjoying his life, free, with whomever the younger man desired, even if it wasn’t him… even if in the end, they didn’t work out somehow.

Overcome with the strong sensation he’d come to realize as love, the Commander looked up at his companion with so many emotions in his blue eyes, trying to be as open as he could, as unguarded as he’d ever been, because he simply loved this man. Drawing their faces together with a delicate touch just shy of a pale ear, Genesis kissed those familiar soft curves chastely and slow like they had all the time in the world. “I adore you.” The older man whispered between breaths as their lips kept meeting over and over again; the only thing that stopped him was his phone vibrating next to his glass on the coffee table behind him.

Frowning at the ungodly hour, Genesis picked it up only to feel his heart plummet to the bottom of his stomach.

His foster-father’s number was flashing on the screen.

Swallowing, his eyes darted up at the emerald irises gazing at him as he flipped his phone open.

_“Genesis, this is Rebecca. Your father doesn’t know that I’m speaking to you, but I wanted to make sure you made the right choice. Listen.”_

There was a click on the other side of the line, before Genesis heard it; his eyes widening with disbelief as he pulled his phone away, looking at it like it wasn’t real. Long fingers plucked it from his loosened grip before Sephiroth put it on speaker, holding it between them.

_“Tell me, how did it feel to see me writhing under somebody else?”_ This was…this was his own voice.

_“...Is this… Roleplaying?”_ And there it was, the General’s, though a bit muffled; probably recorded from behind the door or the wall of the adjacent room.

“This doesn’t prove anything.” Genesis tried to assuage himself, his voice betraying his anger.

There was another click and a short laugh, before Rebecca spoke again. “Oh darling, this was nothing.”

At first, Genesis thought he was listening to static, but concentrating, he could hear faint huffs of breathing, broken by a moan that seemed to be his followed by a _“Lube...Seph.. where-...”_.

“I told you, he’s a consummate lover, isn’t he?” His foster-mother taunted, and Genesis yanked the phone out of Sephiroth’s hand, pouncing over the table before pacing around the living room like a tiger in a gilded cage.

“Stop it! Just stop it! Haven’t you ruined my life enough already? What have I ever done to you? If you didn’t want a child why did you adopt me? To bring you more money? Do any-...” The redhead was reduced to hysteria by the time the General took his phone away and flipped it shut.

Placing it back on the coffee table, the silver-haired man stepped into the redhead’s pacing mid stride and caught him by the waist. The blue-eyed soldier struggled for a minute before slouching defeatedly, running an exhausted hand over his face as he did so. Sephiroth’s fingers ran up his sides to cup his elbows as he leaned forward to press his lips to the Commander’s forehead. It helped...a little bit. It didn’t dispel the virulent sense of panic and despair racing through his body. More than the despair was the indignation, the sense of violation. Because though he was no novice to sex, that had been the first time he and Sephiroth had been fully physically intimate. The idea that his adoptive ‘mother’ had been listening in made him physically nauseous. Clenching his fists, the older man closed his eyes, forcing himself to focus on the baritone of his companion’s voice.

“Gen.” The green-eyed soldier murmured. “It doesn’t matter. We already made the decision. Whatever she was hoping to get out of this, she already did...even if she didn’t know it.” When Genesis’ expression morphed into outrage, the silver-haired First shook his head. “I’m not excusing it, I’m just trying to...help you to understand that this was a complete waste of her time. That doesn’t make it any less abhorrent, but it does negate the effect.” Carding a hand through the redhead’s hair, the younger man grimaced. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but that doesn’t...it doesn’t change the significance of that night to me. It was still something tangible, even if the circumstances weren't.”

Genesis shook his head, trying to quell his rage. Realistically, he knew that the General was right, that what they were about to do would render threat null and void. But that didn’t change the fact that their intimacy was now caught on audible tape. Tape that he didn’t have...tape in the hands of someone who could do as she pleased with it at any given moment. He’d known Rebecca was cruel...it was a factor that had haunted his childhood years. However, he hadn’t known that Rebecca was sadistic, though he probably shouldn’t have been so surprised. Moreover he was angry at himself for being careless, for not watching his back when he went to the guest room...for assuming everything about that night was going to be okay. It was-possibly-one of the most monumentally disastrous nights in his entire existence.

“I could go get the tape.” Sephiroth offered hesitantly.

“No.” The Commander answered almost immediately. This was it, the last straw he’d thought he’d severed during all these years. His foster-parents’ knives were still stabbed in his back where they had left them. Genesis was tired of their backstabbing, of their treachery. If he could, he’d change his last name to something else. He’d renounce them if he could, but that would only serve to put more scrutiny on his personal life if he shared it with the press. The redhead didn’t want anything from them, monetary or otherwise. They were no longer his parents, they were nothing to him. They didn’t even deserve to be called his enemy for their conniving underhanded ways.

Mortimer and Rebecca were toxic, he didn’t need anything like that in his life; he didn’t want their stench to taint anything else in his life from now on.

As painful as it was, the scarlet-haired soldier focused on the strong hands that were holding him delicately. He focused on the formidable presence that stroked the shore of his consciousness like the waves of the ocean. There was also Angeal. The raven-haired First had always been there for him, supporting him, and he was, even right now. Even though they were standing a little further apart than they used to, the Commander knew that he could always count on him; count on Sephiroth. And that’s really all that mattered.

Everything else would heal with time.

“I want you here, with me.” Cerulean eyes met viridescent, and smiling slowly, Genesis continued. “The press is going to have a field day. So is SOLDIER, and all those who were already speculating me sleeping with you to rise up through the ranks.” His lips stretched into a smirk. “You have to get yourself ready for the party.”

Beryl irises were soft, even as those perfect lips were pressed thin with mock-disapproval. The General leaned in to kiss him and he allowed it; something tightly wound within him relaxing as their mouths met, warm...slow...careful. Sephiroth’s arm rose so it could cup his cheek, their breath intermingling even as the younger man drew away to observe his expression. Satisfied, he kissed him again, harder, until the taste of the wine melted from his tongue only to be replaced by the suffusion that was the individual before him. When they were both somewhat lightheaded, Genesis’ companion retreated to nuzzle his jaw; sweeping upwards until he could feel soft exhalations nudging the shell of his ear.

“I think,” Sephiroth murmured. “That’s a party I could possibly miss.” Genesis chuckled and his fellow First joined in ruefully. “Strange,” He continued. “The last party I attended was one I was under the impression I absolutely could not miss.” The Commander impulsively smacked the arm still clutching his bicep with his free hand, and he felt rather than saw the grin that spread over the General’s lips. “Though if this is the result of one party, who knows what I could get from another?”

The redhead wondered-joyfully-if punching Sephiroth was an appropriate response when they were both so happy. That mouth found his again and the older man nipped playfully at a lower lip before burying his face in the cascade of silver hair that had slipped over a powerful shoulder. Who cared about the press? About Shinra? This was _worth it._ To have this easy, placid affection between them that seemed to bubble up from an endless well of deep emotion. It felt like he was vibrating with it, like it filled him up from his head to his toes to spill out onto the floor. The green-eyed soldier’s subsequent question was a little more sobering, and his mirth died away somewhat.

“Do you have a particular way you want to go about this?”

Genesis drew back so he could see his lover’s face as he contemplated their options. “Well, I’m sure Angeal and you would want me to sit through a rather boring press conference. But, _I_ think…” Reluctantly detangling himself from the warmth of Sephiroth’s embrace before bending a knee, a playful but genuine smile brightened up his sharp blue eyes as he looked up at the surprised expression on his lover’s face. “Sephiroth, will you go on a date with me?”

The General's face went momentarily blank, and he worried that perhaps he'd taken too strong an approach. It was one thing to have a press conference versus going on a date, after all. And for all he knew Sephiroth didn't _like_ dates. The few times he'd seen him out with one woman or another for the sake of PR, he'd looked absolutely miserable. At the time, Genesis had assumed that it was because the younger man detested going anywhere with an assigned strumpet. But now that he considered it, perhaps it was because he was distinctly uncomfortable with the idea of public romance at all.

“Oh, we can do that now, can't we?”

The Commander blinked, then he grinned as he nodded. He was somewhat surprised when the silver-haired man’s expression sobered once more. Sephiroth's visage was solemn in its seriousness. Inwardly, Genesis sighed, because of course his fellow First was going to overthink this. It would be-essentially-the first voluntarily date he had ever been on. Dates were nothing new to the older man, but to Shinra's finest, it was something foreign yet monumental.

“...Do I wear coattails?”

 Genesis entire face spasmed.

This happened twice before he snorted ingloriously and then broke into peals of laughter. He was-intimately-aware of his companion's indignation, but the image of Sephiroth in a top hat, cane, and tails was enough to make him double over. Because of course the man in question would go to the fashionable extreme. But it wasn't like they were getting _married._ Though, he supposed that if he let his lover have free reign he'd probably be stepping out of a limousine and onto a red carpet at whatever venue he chose.

“Flowers?” Sephiroth was muttering fiercely, apparently to the far wall. “Chocolate and a serenade?” He seemed to be panicking, and the redhead tried valiantly to sober himself. “ _A guitar?”_

If he didn’t stop laughing right now, Genesis was practically sure they’d never get to do it because the silver-haired man was definitely weaving this into a nightmare. Standing up from where he’d been kneeling, he put his hands on the younger man’s shoulders before shaking his head, unable to keep the smile away from breaking his face in two.

“No coattails, no flowers and no chocolate.” Genesis tilted his head, slowly drawing the green-eyed man flush against him but still far enough to see his face. “I didn’t know you could serenade and play guitar though, because if you’re thinking of hiring someone, I’d be _really_ offended.” The redhead tried pouting, but the up-quirk of his lips ruined the effect.

Slowly swaying to some nonexistent music, his features softened as he whispered. “Where do you like to go?”

“I can't.” Sephiroth said tightly, falling into step with him automatically. “Play guitar, I mean...and I've never attempted singing. But I think I could learn a basic chord by tomorrow and Fair has several baudies memorized, I suppose I could bring myself to ask-” The General paused and raised an eyebrow, apparently contemplating the picture of the younger man strumming a single chord while The Puppy belted out 'Brunhilda the Busty Barmaid from Banora.’ This earned him an embarrassed flush. “-I'd better not.”

He'd certainly better not.

Because apparently Sephiroth was only aware of dating in the sense that would ruin his career and his reputation all in one go. And while the concept was endearing, the end result was properly horrific. Genesis started swaying again only for his dance partner to stop him. Despite appearing completely unmoored, the green-eyed soldier managed to look entirely serious. Framing the redhead's face with his hands, Sephiroth spoke.

“There's a new production of Loveless, something abstract apparently. It's on the Southern section of the Upper Plate, but I'll have to ask about exactly where it is. If you like, we can go to dinner afterwards.” Warm lips pressed against the older man's forehead. “Without you...I'd be exactly that...loveless...so it seems fitting to attend something whose name represents the opposite of everything you've made me.” He smiled. “So yes, Gen, I'll go on a date with you.”

Genesis mirrored the younger man’s gesture, though the insistent smile pulling on his lips made it rather difficult to place a kiss on the smooth pale forehead. “Ashayam…” The redhead blinked slowly, his expression open and soft. There was a strong urge to bring their lips together, soft and sweet. But the redhead suppressed it, because he needed to get this out. “I appreciate the sentiment, I really do. But I want us to go somewhere _you_ like.” Leaning his forehead to his lover, the scarlet-haired man whispered. “I don’t need Loveless to be happy when I’m beside you.”

Sephiroth tilted his head, apparently considering his words.

“There's a park.” He said slowly, and Genesis raised an eyebrow. “To the North, just beyond Ggegylde Towers. It's...not very public, but I think somewhere where there's something alive would be pleasant.” He smiled. “We could take lunch.” Lifting his right hand, he thumbed the scarlet-haired soldier’s bottom lip before replacing it with his mouth. “What do you think?”

“It’s…” The redhead bit Sephiroth’s lower lip, watching the younger man through hooded eyes as he sucked on it gently before drawing back enough to whisper. “Perfect.” His smile was mirroring that of the silver-haired First. “We could rent bikes and go around it and even Midgar afterwards, if you wanted.”

This was really happening. Genesis had to remind himself for a moment that the man in his arms was very much real. That he’d just bent the knee and asked the man he loved for a date, and he’d accepted. That probably, by the end of the week every single soul in the metropolis would know about them being together. It was a strange feeling. It was like the world was giving him everything he’d ever wanted on a silver platter. A hushed voice somewhere inside his head whispered that everything came at a price, that he shouldn’t get cocky for what he was being given, but the Commander pushed it aside.

Aside from the camera he’d bought to capture their moments together, he had decided to give the General something, a gift, as sentimental as it was. He’d entertained the thought since their last night at Banora, and after their small get together with Angeal, the fiery-haired man had decided to set his plan in motion. There weren’t many things he could give Sephiroth. The General could have anything he wished, with his money and his power and his looks, not that he did though, which was a real shame.

In the end, he’d designed something, ridiculous in his own opinion, because Sephiroth _was not_ one to wear jewelry. Technically, it didn’t count as an accessory, since they weren’t normal gems he’d ordered to be cut; they were a couple mako stones he’d found in his missions here and there. Maybe At best his fellow First would keep it only because he was the one giving it, hang it somewhere in his apartment, the redhead really wasn’t sure. Anywhere would be better than to have it thrown at his face. It was a long shot, Genesis knew, but he hadn’t been able to help it. Tomorrow was the perfect occasion to give it to the younger man, but he needed to make sure everything was perfect. “We might have to check out some place first, if that’s okay?”

Nodding, the green-eyed General placed another kiss on his forehead before pulling away slowly. Now, with everything settled, for a moment, the older man saw a flash of weariness passing across Sephiroth’s pale face. “Bedroom?” The redhead suggested, smiling as he plucked their glasses from the table, knocking back his untouched one on his way to the kitchen before looking over his shoulder to see his lover disappear to his sleeping quarters. Leaving them inside the dishwasher, Genesis turned off the lights, sighing contently as his eyes adjusted to the comforting darkness that fell over the apartment.

Taking off his sneakers in the living room, he started leaving a trail of clothes on his way to the bed where his companion was lying, his brilliant jade eyes hidden behind pale eyelids. The younger man wasn’t asleep yet, his breathing was different from the few mornings Genesis had actually managed to wake up earlier than the silver-haired man. The Commander was torn for a moment; to stay where he was and watch those serene features until slumber overtook his lover, or to join him in the bed, before opting for the latter. It was late, and they had plans tomorrow. What was going to be a bleak day in his office and then at the archives, was now something bright, something to look forward to.

Settling somewhat slowly on the mattress and under the black satin sheets, Genesis crawled up beside Sephiroth, pressing gently against the soft nondescript fabric covering his companion’s muscular torso. There was something he just mentioned… something that had kept eluding him for the past couple of hours… Talking about the whole going public scenario hadn’t been the only reason he’d come here. Oh, the archives. The clearance. Project G.

“Can I ask you for something?” Tucking that thick silver mane aside, he whispered against the shell of the younger man’s ear.

Green eyes observed him for a moment; tenderness encompassing every facet of those aquiline features as the younger man appeared to drink him in. It was rare-he acknowledged-for the General to appear so relaxed. Even though he was clearly apprehensive of their date, it seemed he was also somehow more secure in something else. Their conversation had strengthened his resolve...though for what, the redhead wasn't entirely sure. When he’d had his fill of observance, Sephiroth’s lips curved into a small smile. He shifted so they were facing each other; sinking back into the pillows and taking the redhead’s hand. Stroking a thumb between middle and ring finger, his fellow First spoke.

“Of course.” He said quietly.

Looking down at their hands, the blue-eyed soldier couldn’t help but think if this was the right course of action. Genesis hadn’t told Sephiroth about his little ‘talk’ with Hollander; and he definitely hadn’t told him that if he’d probably shut his mouth, the scientist wouldn’t have called his ‘parents’ and maybe, just maybe they wouldn’t have to deal with this in the first place. And there was also this Project G, whatever it was… And if the General asked him why, the scarlet-haired man really didn’t know how to answer. Omitting the truth was one thing, but lying? That he couldn’t do. Not to his lover, anyway.

Delicately grasping the pale wrist, Genesis brought up the silver-haired man’s hand, gently kissing the tip of each elegant finger as he spoke, avoiding the brilliant green gaze that followed his movements. “I need you clearance card for the archives.” Folding the younger man’s digits and brushing his lips against those fine knuckles, the blue-eyed First looked up. “Mine doesn’t work.”

The General blinked, those emerald irises heavy with exhaustion as he processed the question directed at him. For a very tense moment, the redhead feared that the younger man was going to ask for the reasoning behind his request. The silver-haired First was occasionally indulgent, but that didn't stop him from being inquisitive. Instinctively, he knew he'd have to give him a half-truth... bordering somewhere between verity and discretion. His conscience hated it, but until he knew more it was a necessity. Nothing would come from sharing his concerns, Sephiroth would likely tell him to let it go for his own well-being. He couldn't do that. Not when it involved him... relevant information about him.

“Very well.”

Genesis watched in surprise as his companion groaned and sat up, running an idle hand through his hair before pulling his shirt over his head and subsequently fumbling in one of his pockets. There was the flash of laminated plastic as the younger man waved the card before pressing it into the redhead's palm; throwing his legs over the side of the bed to remove his fatigues and falling back into the pillows with a substantial yawn.

“Just have it back before I have a meeting with the President.” He mumbled. “Otherwise I won't be able to get into his office.” He opened his eyes and frowned. “Actually, keep it as long as you like.” Flopping back onto his side, he pulled the Commander close, kissing his brow before capturing his mouth. “My code is 72135.”

Genesis hummed contently, smiling against Sephiroth’s tender lips before turning around to reach out and put the card on the nightstand. “Thank you, Seph.” Returning to the serenity of his lover’s embrace, the scarlet-haired man closed his eyes, trying to focus on the here and the now; the unique aura that engulfed his entire being. A sleepy smile edged its way onto his face as he crawled a little lower, nestling his head in the crook of his companion’s neck as he mumbled. “For everything.”

For his entire life, the redhead had thought that Banora was his hometown, his birthplace. He’d tried all the years he’d spent there, despite all the good and bad memories, to feel like it was his home, like Angeal did; to belong, to look forward to coming back to, but to no avail. That sense of adventure he’d felt, to explore and discover all the little town had to offer, expanding the borders of his known world when he’d been a teenager, must have been a sign that it wasn’t right. That he should have simply given up trying all those years ago.

The blue-eyed First had had no illusions when coming to Midgar, he’d known, somewhere, deep down, that it’d probably stay more or less the same. There was more to discover, sure; he had more freedom, but still, after ten years, he still didn’t think he could call the metropolis his home; being away on missions, and in the hot deserts and ridiculous rainforests of Wutai -as much as he hated the climate-, didn’t make him miss this place. He’d been giving up, or maybe he had. But now, it was changing. Everything he’d come to know about himself, about the world, it was all changing. The truth about his upbringing, this information that was just beyond his reach… His feelings about his comrade-in-arms, his friend, his equal…

For a moment, Genesis wondered if he’d finally found it; a place to belong. Maybe Sephiroth could be his home, to come back to no matter what. Placing his palm against the steady thrum of his lover’s heart, the redhead mumbled something before slumber overtook him.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

A date.

Laying in the darkness of the bedroom, listening to the soft, somnolent breaths of the individual sleeping next to him...Sephiroth stared at the ceiling and tried to calm his currently out-of-control cardiovascular system. A date. He had agreed to a date. With Genesis. Frowning, the green-eyed First tugged at an errant lock of hair before letting his hand flop backwards onto the pillow; palm up. The idea of whose company he would be in didn’t bother him in the least. He knew-automatically-that the redhead was the only person he’d want to spend the day with. No, it was the idea that he didn’t exactly know what to do in this particular situation. Flexing his toes, the silver-haired First let them nudge against the softness of the coverlet. His eyes flicked to the chronometer on the opposite side of the bed.

It was 02:22.

Suppressing a sigh of exasperation, the General returned his focus to the popcorn ceiling. Tracing the array of shadowed convex and concave semi-spherical shapes he counted the seconds as Genesis’ quiet breathing turned into snoring. Glaring sideways at his companion, the younger man took perhaps a minute to deliberate before kicking the covers off and getting out of bed. He wasn’t going back to sleep, there was no point in lying around doing nothing. Pulling on his fatigues, he exited the bedroom and stood for a moment in the darkened hallway; deliberating on his intended destination. Deciding that his office was probably his best choice considering the late hour, he let his feet lead him there.

Closing the door behind him, Sephiroth fumbled for the light switch and paused yet again to let his eyes adjust. Once this was accomplished, he surveyed the room somewhat distractedly. He didn’t spend a lot of time in his study; not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t have the luxury. The desk he’d commissioned several years ago, but he’d never had the time to truly appreciate its dark, painstakingly carven surface. Likewise, sitting in the black pleather office chair had seemed like a thing of fantasy. Even now, he was loathe to take a seat and truly think about the events of the day, but he had a direct purpose for it currently, and he was going to use it.

Lowering himself into the chair, he leaned back for a minute, letting his hair tumble over the arm before reaching forward to switch on the computer monitor. This too had never been used, and he took a few moments to immerse himself in the setup before connecting to the city grid system and looking up the general concept of a date. Five minutes in and he was more horribly confused than he’d been before. Because apparently there were a sere few dating concepts that involved chocolates and flowers, though he was fairly sure that Genesis would appreciate neither. In any case, he wasn’t favorable to sweets, and giving the redhead something he didn’t like himself was a lot like giving someone their serving of whatever they didn’t want to eat for the sake of self-preservation.

The General briefly entertained the idea of flowers. Because he wanted to do _something_ somewhat ‘romantic’, as the general public would put it. He quickly realized that his second-in-command would not appreciate this either, because while Genesis could occasionally be partial to colorful things, flowers were not even remotely in that criteria. There was also the truth that Sephiroth was allergic to almost every flower except for pipevines and sea onions. The arrangement the combination of the two made in his mind was so hideous he nearly groaned aloud. Obviously, he was going to have to think of something original and personable...nothing too forward but nothing too vague either.

Sephiroth sat behind his desk for an hour before he called Angeal.

To his credit, the dark-haired First sounded more concerned than grumpy when he answered the phone. Because never before had the General called someone at four in the morning to ask for dating advice. When he learned the subject of his late night-or early morning, depending on how you looked at it-call, Genesis’ childhood friend quickly became exasperated.

_“Genesis doesn’t like presents.”_

The silver-haired soldier frowned into the receiver.

“Why?”

_“Because his parents used them to placate him. Material items don’t mean anything to him, Sephiroth.”_ As the younger man processed this information, his fellow First continued to speak. _“Why are you asking me this anyway?”_

Sephiroth hung up.

Angeal didn’t call back and he counted it a lucky thing. Because he was fairly sure if he told the dark-haired First that they were making their relationship public he would break down his apartment door with the Buster Sword and try to talk them out of it. Then they would be forced to explain how they came to such a conclusion in the first place, and he would have to explain to Genesis why his childhood friend was suddenly aware of their predicament. He was fairly sure that would be the end of their date...before it had even begun.

Flicking an errant lock of hair over his shoulder, the General narrowed his eyes as he saw the faintest tinge of residual blood in one of the strands. He’d been to see Hojo twice now...since he’d promised the redheaded man currently sleeping in his bed he wouldn’t. Each time, the scientist had been increasingly unrepentant. It worried him somewhat, because each time it was becoming increasingly more difficult to hide the after effects. It had taken him perhaps three hours to get the stains out of his carpet and even longer to get it out of his hair. The pain was tolerable, he was used to pain...but he hadn’t been expecting Genesis at such a late hour. It was pure luck that he’d went to bed ten minutes before, with no idea of the time or the date...because otherwise he had a feeling that their relationship would never recover.

Regardless, he couldn’t dwell on it. Catering to Hojo’s whims saved both of them the trouble of possible suspension, and it might help them today, once the press caught wind of their relationship. Shutting off the monitor, Sephiroth sat back and looked to the right, at a shelf of doctrinal and regulatory books that he’d slowly accumulated over his years in service. It seemed somewhat sad that he didn’t have anything that someone else would consider ‘entertaining’ to read. Fiction had always escaped him, because his life was bizarre enough already without throwing fairy tales and romances into the midst. Now, he could understand a little bit why people liked them so much. Sometimes escape was beneficial. His phone buzzed and he frowned, digging it out of his pocket and flipping it open.

_Time: 0454 Sender: A. Hewley_

_if u have to get him something, get him something he runs his mouth about a lot._

The green-eyed First blinked but didn’t reply. Because that didn’t help him at all. Genesis was perfectly capable of waxing poetic about the composition of a fencepost. The redhead talked about everything and anything, sometimes to the point where he couldn’t keep up with it. Just two days ago he’d been talking about the facets of a winged sleigh, which he was fairly sure didn’t exist in this dimension of time and space. The only thing that came swiftly to mind was _Loveless_ , and the Commander had already stated that he didn’t want to do anything that was singularly a pastime of his own. He was fairly certain it was safe to assume that such parameters extended to material items as well.

It was 05:30.

Staring at the clock, Sephiroth wondered if every first date was this hard. Did everyone struggle so much when it came to thinking of something to do for their partner? He doubted it. From the few memories he had of the dates that Shinra had forced him into, most of the women he’d gone out with had been satisfied with flattery and a night in a five-star hotel room. The silver-haired soldier narrowed his eyes. _That_ being said, Genesis was fond of the physical. Maybe he could give him something that he’d never given anyone else before. His companion seemed to enjoy being on the receiving end of things in the bedroom. Feasibly, so could he.

That was settled then.

Leaning back in his chair, Sephiroth acknowledged the sound of the sheets rustling in his bedroom. It wouldn’t be long before the redhead was awake...but he didn’t intend to introduce the idea now. Later...after their date, he could bring it up. He tried to quell the sense of apprehension that came with his decision. Because this was not a time or a place to be biased...or to think that somehow by providing something like this that he was degrading himself. Genesis would never look it like that. The bedroom door swung open, and he let his gaze wander to the ceiling as the knob to his office door jiggled and then swept inwards.

The redhead entered the room in his naked sleepy glory, wincing and narrowing his eyes at the brightness of the room as he stifled a yawn, stretching while he did so. Cerulean irises looked around the room before settling on the silver-haired man. Auburn locks brushed a pale shoulder as Genesis tilted his head, a slight frown creasing his brow as he sauntered around his desk, coming to a stand beside him. Nudging his knees, Sephiroth’s seat swiveled a little more so his Commander could probably have a better view of him.

“You didn’t sleep.” His fellow First stated plainly, stepping backwards to lean against the bookshelf he’d been staring at almost an hour ago, crossing his arms over a lean chest. “We can go with the press conference if this bothers you.”

The younger man acknowledged that while the redhead was definitely perceptive, he was perceptive with a very limited perspective. Because he _wanted_ to go on a date with Genesis, he just wanted everything to go as smoothly as possible. They were going to be inundated with the press once word got out that they were in the park doing anything remotely romantic. He was torn between bringing Masamune and asking Angeal to shadow them so that he could beat back the resulting crowds while they went on with their day. Neither would be very attractive to the Commander, however, so he forced himself to exercise mental restraint. It wasn’t like he could physically attack the press anyway; that was an easy way to get court-martialed and they would have enough on their plate after this regardless.

There was also the factor that he had never really done much of anything that didn’t have a giant textbook stating rules and regulations behind it. Carrying something out for the sake of the shared happiness alone, especially in public, was entirely foreign to him. The silver-haired First was fairly certain that if he mentioned it, his second-in-command would hug him and while he wasn’t impartial to hugs, he wasn’t exactly partial to sympathetic hugs. That left him with a singular option, and while he wasn’t sure that Genesis would like it, it was still better than being an anxious mess during a pivotal event. Clearing his throat, Sephiroth spoke.

“I want to go.” He said quietly, nudging his chair forward with his heels until his knees were on either side of the redhead’s legs. Looking up, he smiled crookedly. “I...I would like to make a schedule.” Peering down at him over his nose, Genesis raised an eyebrow and he continued hastily. “Nothing complex, just...arrival time, when we eat lunch, when-if we do-we get the bikes, what to do if the press decides to box us in, and what time we might leave.” He slumped. “Not because I’ll _want_ to leave but because I’m unused to being around a large concentration of the public without a schedule, and certainly not for something so important.”

Azure eyes were studying his face as he spoke, widening almost imperceptibly in that particular way they always did when their owner was really intrigued, making his pale beautiful features look so much sharper. Sephiroth could see a smile slowly edging its way on those sanguine lips as his fellow First contemplated his words, the gears turning in that brilliant fiery head.

The General knew from experience that his second-in-command wasn’t good with schedules at all. The green-eyed soldier had simply lost count of the many times they were supposed to meet for a spar, a couple meetings here and there, and even a handful of missions, and the scarlet-haired man had been late. Not by a couple of minutes, that he could work with despite how badly it’d kept ruining his schedule, but by an hour. The younger First had wondered back then, if Genesis simply wanted to make his life miserable, or did so just to spite him.

It was hard to fight the urge to smile as he remembered the last time his companion had been late; the executive board meeting. Sephiroth had never seen the older man, a Second back then, so disheveled; to the point that when he’d saluted his harness and subsequently his sword had fallen to the ground. It was probably the round of stifled laughter that’d circulated the room the reason why Genesis Rhapsodos was a morning person now.

“You know, I usually decide these things as I go…” A smirk quirked the older man’s lips, his tone playful as he added. “But I think I can make an exception for _you_.” Strong hands settled at the base of his neck while Genesis placed bare knees on either side of his hips, sinews flexing under the pale smooth skin as his fellow First straddled his thighs, the chair protesting with a creak under the added weight. And Sephiroth wondered briefly that maybe he’d need to buy yet a new one by the end of today, before the Commander continued. “We can have breakfast, leave around nine to go to my apartment and get some picnic stuff, make some sandwiches? Or do you want to go to a restaurant?” It was apparent that the words were flowing right after being formulated. “Then I need to go to Zales. I think we’d probably be able to get to the park by eleven.” The blue-eyed soldier’s thoughtful expression morphed into a playful softness. “We get the bikes when we arrive so we could simply run away when the press becomes too oppressive. And we leave whenever you want.”

A kiss was placed on the crown of his head and Genesis drew back, raising an auburn eyebrow. Smiling ruefully, the younger man slid his hands down the powerful expanse of back available to him before letting his fingers grasp the redhead’s hips.

“That seems fair.” He replied gently.

Looking up, he returned the Commander’s gesture before gently nudging him backwards so they both could stand. Taking his fellow First’s hand, he led them out of the office and out into the hallway. He began to drag the older man out to the living room but was stopped just before they could enter it. The redhead cocked his head and gestured at his naked form before sauntering back into the bedroom. The green-eyed soldier told himself it took him twenty seconds to look away from the empty space he’d vacated because he’d been meaning to say something that he’d forgotten. Letting his feet lead him towards the kitchen, he paused and turned to call back the way he’d come.

“Breakfast?”

There was a slightly muffled reply that he took as assent; returning to his projected path and opening the refrigerator. Contrary to popular belief, he was not a chef. The fact that he could make spaghetti while the majority of the troops could not, did not make him a five-star culinary expert. He’d once read a frankly ridiculous article in the paper speculating that he made gourmet meals for himself every day, and that was why he was never seen in public. Privately, he acknowledged that if he _did_ do that he likely wouldn’t be able to fit through his front door. Pulling out a carton of eggs, butter, and milk, he set them to the side before reaching for the breadbox. Retrieving the food in question, he’d turned to drag a saucepan out of a cupboard and onto the stove when his waist was caught from behind; a long arm looping around him as the other reached out to take the offending item from his grasp. Letting it hover, Genesis released him only to slide his hair to the side and place a kiss on the back of his neck.

The redhead moved away and placed the pan over the burner, giving Sephiroth’s assembled items a disdainful, distinctly better-than-thou look before heading back to the fridge and returning with onions, peppers, and a packet of sliced ham. These he added to the melee before reaching forwards to grab some salt and pepper from the spice rack to the left of the stove. When the silver-haired soldier tried to regain some control of the situation he was given a pointed _‘sit down’_ look, and he resignedly leaned against the counter as the older man took the task of breakfast into his own hands.

He was ashamed to admit that he hadn’t known Genesis could cook. After all, he’d been raised in a wealthy family with a large kitchen staff. Learning how to prepare a meal was-so he’d assumed-very low on his list of priorities as a child. Still, he was pleasantly surprised to see that he indeed _could_ cook...and much better than he himself could. Sephiroth would never have thought about adding vegetables or meats or cheeses to an egg sandwich; though apparently it wasn’t going to be an egg sandwich at all, because the older man promptly threw the bread back into the breadbox and proceeded to make omelettes.

“I could have done that.” He muttered halfheartedly, figuring he ought to save at least some small iota of his culinary pride.

Genesis rolled his eyes, the effect distinctly ruined by the grin creeping across his face. “Do you want to help? Set the table and give me two plates.”

The silver-haired man wanted to protest yet again, but in the end acquiesced, passing by the redhead to take the required culinary items. Handing the Commander the plates, he was about to leave when a strong hand tugged on the waistband of his fatigues as Genesis leaned toward him and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Good morning, love.” Letting him go, his companion whispered, a bright smile adorning his face before he returned to his cooking.

And it was in a strange kind of daze that he left the kitchen, his movements seemingly too sluggish in his mind as it wandered. Placing a fork down, the General looked up, and it was like he was watching themselves from the outside. This domesticity… If someone didn’t know who they were, they couldn’t have even ventured to guess that these two men were the same people whose names were spoken with fear and awe on the battlefield. They couldn’t have guessed the amount of blood that dyed their hands, the horrors that had followed them in their dreams; that still sometimes did.

He briefly wondered what good he’d done in his whole life, to have _this_.

The clink of the plates on the table brought him out of his reverie before long fingers covered his around the cutlery he’d been holding. Azure eyes were watching him with an affectionate flame, almost questioning him silently _‘What is it?’_. So near, Sephiroth could smell the mixture of everything the redhead had put in their breakfast on him, and under it all the musky, earthy scent that was Genesis. He leaned in to steal his lips without really thinking about it; because it seemed like the appropriate thing to do, because he wanted to, because he _needed_ to.

His fellow First went with it; long, calloused fingers reaching up to stroke his cheeks, the smile on the redhead's face somewhat hindering the initial effect...but it was still good, and that was all that really mattered. The silver-haired soldier pressed closer, till the only thing he was remotely cognizant of was the warmth of the body before him. Closer and the desirous part of velvet lips was a heady thing, like the slow build of rapid oxidation. Closer and the table shuddered warningly under his weight as he was pushed into it, returning ingress for ingress as hips met and twisted against each other. The tableware clattered and they were forced to pull back. As they did so, Sephiroth's stomach decided that it was a perfect time to growl thunderously.

The blank look he immediately settled across his visage was-so he imagined-distinctly ruined by the flush that rose from his neck to the tips of his ears. To remedy this, he turned and abruptly sat down, feigning deafness to Genesis’ chortling as the older man orbited the circumference of the table to slide into the chair across from him. They spoke of pleasant, trifling things over breakfast. Though no matter how hard he tried, the silver-haired soldier couldn't get his companion to disclose what he was looking for at Zales. He tried several different angles of tactical approach before he decided it must be something fashionable.

“It's earrings.” He said decisively, throwing down his fork, his plate empty. “You've had those for ten years.”

Genesis stopped mid-bite and appeared to consider his declaration, one hand coming up to finger the longest of the aforementioned accessories before apparently coming to a split-second decision. A mysterious smile spread across his face before he raised his eyebrows and shrugged, subsequently diving back into his meal. Sephiroth scowled.

It was not earrings.

“Keep your secrets.” He said dismissively, reaching for his drink and taking a sip in a nonchalant gesture that-upon consideration-was probably not nonchalant at all.

After the redhead finished eating, and after the same redhead plucked the plates from his hands to put in the dishwasher while telling him to go and “dress up nicely”, Sephiroth found himself in his closet, contemplating what would be a nice attire to wear on a first date, and to a park. The silver-haired man was confident in his style, but the same desire for everything to be simply perfect today was again making him hesitant. Checking the weather forecast seemed like the right step in his course of action.

As it turned out, today was a sunny day at Midgar, well as much as the pollution and the plumes of mako let it pass through to get to the upper plate. And a sunny day in the middle of the Summer.

Outside, the almost silent footfalls of his fellow First were approaching the room, and the green-eyed soldier started unbuttoning his shirt; deciding to wear a simple white t-shirt, gunmetal pants and a pair of matching ankle-high leather boots. Hopefully, it would be nice enough for Genesis’ tastes. Speaking of the said redhead, the warmth of the older man’s physicality pressed up behind him just as Sephiroth was discarding his pajama top in the laundry basket. A chin was digging in the apex where his right shoulder met his neck before heated lips pressed against the hollow under his ear.

“Gen…” The silver-haired man warned half-heartedly to which his fellow First only _‘hmm?’_ ed, smiling against the column of his throat as the strong palm splayed over his chest pushed him closer to the scarlet-haired soldier. Tilting his head to capture those luxurious lips with his own, a shiver ran down his spine as the feather-light touch of calloused fingertips trailed lower down his abdomen… and lower still… under the waistband of his fatigues and oh…

Genesis chuckled, his cerulean eyes fluttering closed as he swayed his hips behind him in languid circular motions. The silence that had fallen around them like some soothing blanket, tempting him to stay here and forget about their date was only broken by the sound of their breaths and the faint moist smacks as they kept breaking apart only to lock lips in yet another kiss until the older man whispered. “I suspected this was your closet.” It took an infinitesimal moment for Sephiroth to catch up, opening his mouth to answer only to have those moist tender curves claim his yet again, something between a groan and a moan disappearing betwixt their kiss as the redhead extricated his slightly slick digits.

“I’ll head over to mine, get dressed up and prepare what we need for lunch.” His companion pulled away as he informed him, smiling wickedly. “Meet me there when you’re ready?” And with that, he was gone, vanished as quickly as he’d appeared not even five minutes ago. Staring after the older man with a significant problem in his pants, the green-eyed First wondered if the world was truly as cruel as he’d always thought it was.

In the end, the General opted to take a lukewarm shower; which fixed his physical problem but created a hair problem that he had to take twenty minutes to solve. With this accomplished, the silver-haired soldier brushed his teeth and made his way to the exit, locking the door manually for good measure before stepping out into the hallway. Striding down it, he acknowledged the plaques covering other doors that indicated the residences of other recruits he barely knew. Sequestered on the President’s floor, most of Sephiroth’s neighbors were high-ranking generals or retirees with little motivation to move out of HQ. It was convenient-if he was feeling grudgingly acquiescent-for the President. He lived a floor above and needed only to take the elevator in order to consult with his most-favored initiates.

As a rule, he rarely came to speak with Sephiroth himself. The green-eyed First had a sneaking suspicion that this was because most of his intel was fielded through Hojo, and the scientist didn’t want anyone butting in. He mostly consulted with Lazard, who was the least reticent to go over the Science Division’s head in favor of ensuring that things went successfully. The younger man had a sneaking suspicion it was because the Head of SOLDIER simply couldn’t bear to take on any more paperwork.

Genesis didn’t live relatively close, but in terms of space...he wasn’t exactly miles away. Despite his past reputation as a philanderer, the Commander preferred to keep his dalliances outside of HQ. Grudgingly, the green-eyed soldier admitted that it was a good angle. None of his lovers could technically ‘follow’ him back home in a fit of jealous rage and none of them were privy to any of his existential secrets. He supposed he ought to feel flattered that he was allowed to sleep in Genesis’ bed, but it had always seemed like a comfort and not a privilege...so he didn’t think on it too much.

Approaching the front door of the individual in question, Sephiroth paused, momentarily overcome by nerves. Once the overwhelming feeling had passed, he raised his hand to knock; listening as the immediate shuffle of footsteps was indicative of the older man’s approach. There was a slight whirring as the lock mechanism switched; the door opening but the owner of the house was nowhere to be seen yet.

There was the sound of cabinet doors slamming together out of his line of sight, and the silver-haired man entered, closing the door behind him. “Just one sec, Seph.” Genesis’ voice called, followed soon by a loud thud and a vehement ‘ _Ow, fuck!’_. Stepping further into the living room, Sephiroth could see the Commander rubbing his head with one hand as he put an assortment of various containers inside a black waxed-cotton bag.

Judging by the state of the scarlet-haired man’s undress, however; they needed more like a quarter than one second. Instead of standing around doing nothing, the green-eyed soldier approached him, taking the receptacle from Genesis. “I’ll do it.” And he was about to continue telling him that he should go get dressed when a fleeting kiss was bestowed on his cheek, slightly damp auburn hair brushing his skin before the older man hurried to his bedroom.

In about five minutes, his second-in-command was dressed up in a white t-shirt, indigo jeans, and matching sneakers. A dark brown leather bracelet he’d never seen Genesis wear before hugging his pale wrist. “Ready?” There was a bright understanding smile on the redhead’s sanguine lips, and the implied but unspoken question, or offer swirling in cerulean irises, in the way he hesitated, that ‘ _If you’re unsure, we can change our plans’_.

Silver hair swayed gently around his face as Sephiroth shook his head, returning the sincere gesture as he shouldered the bag and exited the kitchen, the deep baritone of his voice determined as he said. “Ready.”

The way out of HQ was fairly quiet. Most of the company's employees were busy working, and a great portion of the troops had been shipped out to Wutai. The majority left behind were initiates and low-ranking cadets. The General didn't normally cater to anyone lower than the statute of Third, but with the larger bulk gone, neither he nor his second-in-command had much of a choice. Nevertheless, they saw neither trainees nor office workers during their descent. Most of the reception area was unmanned, and he counted it a sincere relief. They received a nod from the secretary, which was absentmindedly returned...but otherwise didn't communicate with anyone.

Stepping outside they were greeted with iron and steel as far as the eye could see. Metal, towering structures reached upwards towards the heavens to disappear into the occasional tufty cloud. Sequestered behind titanium gates, the entrance to HQ was closed off to the public. Access was granted to the interior and exterior by code, there were two guards stationed on either side. The silver-haired man made use of the input device and they walked through; coming upon a concrete sidewalk. It, too, was empty, and Sephiroth stepped back so that Genesis could lean over the edge of the street and hail a cab.

They were eventually joined by a cheerful looking taxi driver who told them her name but the specifics immediately escaped him. The Commander engaged her in idle chatter for about five minutes, but he quickly lost interest in favor of stroking the underside of the silver-haired man’s arm. Within half an hour their conversation was sequestered to the two of them. They discussed possible activity options, different street avenues for when the press located them, and how they would handle returning or-possibly-being dragged back to HQ.

Having only spent time near Headquarters on official business, Sephiroth was forced to see the city in a different light. It was strange to observe everything from a point of view that didn’t involve professionalism or duty. Traffic was slow, but not unduly so. In any case, the quality of their rapport seemed to shorten the passage of time; the hour it took to reach Zales seemed but a matter of minutes, and by the time they got there the numbers on the digital clock at the front of the cab were baffling. Thoroughly fed up with their lack of attention, the driver huffily took their gil and drove away without a word. Raising an eyebrow, the General tilted his head and extended his hand; waggling his fingers slightly.

“Shall we?”

Genesis laced their fingers together, holding firmly before raising their joint hands to press a gentle kiss to his knuckles, pulling slightly back as those azure eyes looked up at him from underneath auburn lashes. “I adore you.” The Commander whispered, before kissing his knuckles yet again. And despite the warmth, the affection he felt from the heartfelt gesture, there was something niggling in the back of his head, some feeling of being watched that set him on edge. Thankfully, it wasn’t for too long as his second-in-command gently pulled him inside the elegant store.

Every surface that wasn’t glass inside was either gold plated or framed by it, extravagantly trying to convey the sense of superior quality. Thankfully the shopkeepers weren’t trying to flock to them as they made their way to the reception, because Sephiroth wasn’t sure he’d be able to fight off the urge to sneer. His companion had let go of his hand, talking with the girl dressed impeccably in a uniform the other occupants of the store shared before plucking his credit card from the front pocket of his jeans with long fingers and offering it to her.

Narrowing his eyes, the General was about to try and see how much it cost when a lithe body obscured his line of sight. Looking up, Sephiroth was greeted with the same elegant digits holding a black leather box, and further up with a bright smile. Azure eyes were gazing at him with that impossible endearing expression that only Genesis could pull off, the look the younger man could never have enough of, as his companion whispered. “It’s yours. I hope you like it.” There was a tinge of nervousness, of an uncertainty in the redhead’s melodious voice.

He took it, automatically; not because he was covetous, but because it was a gift. In all of Sephiroth’s years, he didn’t think that anyone had ever bought him a gift. It was a little bit of a strange feeling; pitted strongly against the automatic response of refusal was an inherent, undeniable _want._ Taking the box in his hands, the silver-haired soldier opened it to find a simple but beautiful bracelet. Silver, with a single circlet he supposed was meant to go around his wrist; it had a single length of thin bead-like charms running down the fore...half an inch in length with six in total. These appeared to be mako stones, and while he knew little about how exactly they were made into jewelry, he knew that they were incredibly difficult to procure. Used to bolster proficiency in the field; they were an incredible testament to the redhead’s knowledge of his prowess...of his purpose. This again was new, because no one had ever bothered to acknowledge that his place was meaningful beyond flattery and exposition.

Lifting his right hand, the green-eyed First slid the token over his fingers with his left. Settled just above the apex of his basilic vein; it contrasted beautifully with the skin underneath. Sephiroth had never been vain, but he was appreciative of his own physicality in a purely factual way. And there was the truth that this was from Genesis, and anything from Genesis was going to be beautiful. Swallowing against the emotionalism that rose in his chest; the General lifted his palm to let the bracelet catch the light; oblivious to the curious stares around them. And it _was_ effervescent, in the sense that the redhead could only make something effervescent and breathtaking.

“I love it.” He said hoarsely. “Thank you, Genesis.”

More keenly now, he regretted the fact that he’d not thought to get his companion anything. Letting his eyes stray to the countless glass cases before them, stuffed to the brim with shimmering trinkets, he knew that the blue-eyed man before him wouldn’t want anything like that. Angeal had told him to get him something that he talked about constantly, but he wasn’t any closer to figuring out what that might be. As it was, he settled with taking the redhead’s hand and pressing his lips to the base of his palm. There was a soft intake of breath from someone, but he couldn’t say who it was...he didn’t look. Instead, he then slid his fingers upward...until digits intertwined, before tucking the leather box in his pocket and leading them out of the store.

Outside, they were forced to hail another cab. This time, the driver was a middle-aged man who seemed to be less interested in what they were saying and more interested in the radio. Every time they spoke he turned the volume up, and by the time Genesis had conveyed their desired destination, Sephiroth was about ready to reach around the edges of the seat and jam his thumbs into his eyes. The park was sequestered in an upscale section of the Upper Plate; past towering, shimmering skyscrapers with suited footmen and aged butlers. The vehicles that passed them were reminiscent of Mortimer Rhapsodos’ choice of car...though he tried not to dwell on it.

Viridiare Paths was situated in the middle of such opulence, with perhaps two square miles of green, flowering pathways, playgrounds, and picnic benches. The park itself was ovular in shape; enclosing a peaceful pond with an array of waterfowl. Massive oak trees shot up between thin-trunked, colorful maple; rustling in the breeze as hyacinths and oleanders bobbed their colorful fronds to the beat of a soundless natural melody. The paths were overhung by pale, teardrop leafed beeches and there was a considerable amount of space between the picnic tables to allow for privacy.

Upon their arrival, the population density was low. There was a family playing on the playground, three or four sets of elderly men sitting at chess tables, some equally elderly woman sitting by the pond, and a few couples wandering the paths hand in hand. It was with a sudden urge of juvenile excitement that Sephiroth realized they would soon be one of those couples. Moving with purpose, he pulled Genesis along at a place that normally might have gotten him swatted, but the redhead seemed to understand; trotting after him with a serene, indulgent sort of smile on his face. It was a bit early to eat lunch so they wandered the respective paths, stopping to kiss under a weeping willow as the overhung; softly dotted branches swayed above and around them.

Though the Commander had voiced no real acknowledgment of the younger man’s appreciation for his gift; the joy of his acceptance was housed in his gestures. When he took Sephiroth’s hand he let his fingers trace over the circumference of the bracelet; trailing the beaded accessory like it was an extension of the silver-haired soldier himself. When they kissed he would catch it up and loop it between his fingers; stroking middle and fore over the soft underside of the General’s wrist until they were both dizzy with it. The sunlight was a gentle backdrop; green and gold as it filtered through the trees until everything seemed suffused with a natural glow. It was only when they were leaning over the edge of the bridge that his fellow First spoke; sapphire eyes following the path of a rather wayward duckling.

“I wish I had brought our camera with us.”

Sephiroth was tempted to remind him that probably by now there were a hundred photos of them taken by paparazzi, but he didn’t, shaking his head to dispel the thought. Instead, he focused on the newly added weight around his wrist before looking up at the man who had given him his very first gift. His companion appeared thoughtful, a smile dancing on his face before he seemed to have noticed his gaze. Tilting his fiery head, Genesis queried ‘What?’ in a low voice, the slight temporary downturn of his brows not taking away from the happiness in his features.

Of its own accord, his right hand rose to caress the smoothness of his fellow First’s cheek, emerald irises watching every miniscule aspect of the handsome face in front of him; from the way those blue eyes fluttered gently to the soft content exhalation that dropped from those cerise lips as Genesis leaned into his touch. And Sephiroth wanted to hold him, to cradle the back of that unruly head of red and pull him close, ingress for ingress just as they’d lain in the sanctuary of their bedroom in the many dawns before.

Instead, the green-eyed soldier took the redhead’s hand, their fingers intertwining as they walked around the park, his second-in-command breaking the pleasant tranquility that had fallen between them once in a while to show him where he thought could be a nice place to sit. They didn’t however, until they had rented two bikes. And while Genesis had suggested they race to the place they had picked on their way to the booth, by the time all was said and done, the fiery First had been content to just drag the bicycles along.

Now, the scarlet-haired soldier was lying on the grass, his arms crossed under his head; the breeze ruffling short auburn tresses as the older man smiled at nothing and no one in particular, his azure eyes closed. They were currently sitting under the sweeping branches of a weeping willow. Sephiroth could remember that when they’d come across it earlier, Genesis had likened it to a secret garden, hoping that no one would occupy it and its vicinity by the time they made their round. In a way, the General could understand the comparison. Their view was partially obscured by a curtain of green leaves dotting the stringy wooden limbs swaying gently with the zephyr, somewhat veiling them from unwanted attention as the green canopy overhead shielded them from the oppressive heat of the midday sun.

Between them, the blanket the Commander had proffered so Sephiroth would lie down as carefreely as the older man currently was, sat untouched; next to it were two on-the-go bottles of what seemed like orange juice, two containers of sandwiches and one filled to the brim with fruits. The green-eyed First was currently sitting, his legs stretched out in front of him, leaning against his splayed hands as slim stalks of grass dug into his palms. If he curled his fingers a little, the younger man could feel the slightly damp soil.

So far, no one had approached them outright, for which the General was grateful. Their only means of escape, their bikes were lying a little further down the scarlet-haired man’s feet. Feeling the weight of a gaze, Sephiroth looked further up along the lithe body of his comrade to find keen cerulean irises watching him, burning with some strange fire, tempting him, beckoning him. Leaning over, the younger man bestowed the redhead with a kiss, tangling his fingers in crimson locks as he lost himself in the warmth of his mouth. This went on for several minutes; the exchange of breath and body rising to increasingly desirous levels until the soft but obvious shutter of a camera lens gave them pause.

To the rear of them, sequestered behind a bush, was a wayward photographer.

Stiffening, the General whipped his head around...not really knowing what he was going to do or say but wanting to preserve the sanctity of their time alone. At the last minute, Genesis tugged at his hand...reverting his focus and pulling him back. Sapphire eyes widened somewhat, as if asking what he was doing before the Commander gestured suggestively to their lunch. And it took a _lot_ of willpower to let it go...but the silver-haired soldier was equally cognizant of the fact that this, essentially, was what they were here for. Not that either of them wanted the attention, but their goal was to make their relationship public. Frightening a random cameraman might bring the press down upon them sooner, and he was absolutely adverse to the idea.

They ate the majority of their lunch in an easy sort of silence; the looks they traded speaking volumes more than any words could have. Occasionally, one of them would bring up a particularly fond memory of the times they had spent together...but they chose not to discuss work or the war. It seemed out of place, given the circumstances. At HQ it was easy to fall into the habitual rapport involving this tactic or that regulation...but it seemed that both of them wanted their conversation to be sequestered solely on the topic of their relationship, or other idle interests that didn’t have anything to do with hacking things apart or strategizing battle plans.

By the time they finished, one or two of the couples that were walking the paths had lingered next to them for perhaps a little longer than was necessary...several times. Other pedestrians openly stared, though only one had tried to approach...Genesis’ fiery glare had quickly driven them away. It seemed that the greenery around them was inundated with very-poorly concealed individuals snapping pictures. Where one had been tolerable, several was pushing it, and it was only a matter of time before the press arrived. Despite this, they still sat there, chatting quietly and exchanging touches that were just on the too-familiar side of casual to be dismissed as anything purely friendly. When the Commander drew Sephiroth in for a heady, open-mouthed kiss that probably involved more tongue than was necessary, several somebodies gasped.

The sound of the media truck indicated that their time was coming to an end. Watching as the heavily laden Midgar Times van pulled up to the edge of the park...the silver-haired First sighed and raised an eyebrow at his companion, who smirked.

“It seems we’re running out of time.” He murmured, shoving the remains of their lunch into the bag they’d brought. He’d rather do something slightly unorthodox than risk running to a trash bin and possibly losing Genesis in the crowd of reporters soon to converge upon them. “Do we stay?”

Sighing, the redhead looked around them, and from where he sat, Sephiroth could see the corner of those sanguine lips twitching downwards in what he’d come to know as the signs of a contemptuous sneer. So, without thought, the silver-haired man covered the ivory digits of his companion with his own, curling around them firmly to make Genesis look back at him as he tried to smile in what he assumed was a reassuring manner.

Want and desire were swirling in those blue lakes as the man beside him opened his mouth to protest, seemed to think better of it, closed it only to part his lips yet again. “Alright… I guess we gave them enough to feast on.” Standing up and dusting the fabric of his dark jeans, his second-in-command looked at him with that dizzying expression softening his handsome features. “Shall we?”

And so, just as they emerged onto the cobblestone path, not at all heeding the people who were watching them with a myriad of expressions ranging from borderline obsessed to shell-shocked, they could see the throng of press emerging from the opposite direction. With a smirk and mischievousness glinting in blue eyes, Genesis nodded toward the direction they had agreed upon before sitting on his saddle.

It wasn’t really hard to outrun them, and before Sephiroth knew it, they were already outside the park. Letting go of the handlebars in front of him as they rode down a straight section of the street, the silver-haired First dug into his pockets to find a rubber band to tie his hair with. Ahead of him, his fiery Commander was cycling, once in a while looking over his shoulder with a cheeky grin. With his hair problem out of the way, the General pulled up alongside the redhead, a smirk tugging on his pale lips. “Race you to the Aeron square?” The green-eyed soldier threw over his shoulder as he sped along, a chuckle escaping him as the older man protested behind him with an irritated but playful ‘Hey!’.

It wasn’t really a match to him, because he actually slowed down once in a while for the fiery soldier to close the distance between them, to pass him by with an awfully mock-smug smile that brought laughter to Sephiroth’s lips, and by the time they were near their destination, the General didn’t care, because it had been the most exhilarating thing he’d done in his whole life. The younger man couldn’t really remember any time during all his years to have laughed and smiled so many times. Stopping somewhere at the edge of the sidewalk as Genesis sauntered to a nearby supermarket to get them two bottles of water, Sephiroth couldn’t fight the familiar joyous stretch of his lips that seemed to be present on his face for the past thirty minutes.

Just as he was about to wade in his musings, a cold bottle was shoved playfully in his hand before a pair of dry lips gently brushed his cheek, the barely-there touch of a fingertip brushing a stray lock of silver behind his ear.

“You know, I was thinking…” Genesis whispered in his ear, a finger pointing across from where they were currently staying. In that direction, beyond the giant abstract monument surrounded by spiraling fountains in the middle of the square, was one of Midgar’s infamous five-star hotels, sharing the name of the junction it overlooked; The Aeron. “What do you think about a little privacy before Shinra hunts us down?” The redhead murmured suggestively, a hand settling just above his hip in a somewhat possessive manner. Sephiroth let the question hang for a moment, not because he thought it was a bad idea, but because the concept of suspense was undeniably tempting. Leaning into the touch at his side, the silver-haired soldier tilted his head back and smiled.

“I think...that’s an excellent idea.”

It took them a few minutes to cross the street; walking their bikes at their sides as taxi drivers and buses honked irritably at them. By the time they reached the other side, they were both laughing at the ridiculousness of two Firsts getting ‘called out’ by civilian automobiles. The Aeron was unduly impressive; rising high above the cityscape to tower in cohesiveness with the clouds. A great, spiraling structure of steel, metal crossbars, and concrete overlaid by a glittering, onyx pourstone that reflected the light of the sun like so many diamonds. Inside, the foyer was gold; behind a pair of revolving doors the footmen nodded perfunctorily and took their bikes before continuing with their business.

It was a testament to the professionalism of the staff that they weren’t given any curious or downright incredulous looks when they walked hand in hand to the front desk and asked for a room. Sephiroth took the lead in this particular matter, emphasizing the need for privacy and discretion. The hotel manager himself led them to one of the filigreed elevators, asking after their preferred comforts and falling respectfully silent when it was clear that neither of them were going to be particularly forthcoming in terms of conversation.

They were given the Presidential Suite; complete with a living room, massive bathroom, and opulent bedroom. The bath itself was enough to fit three or more people; and the large, walk-in shower was similarly spacious. Along with enormous facilities with which to bathe; the bathroom was equipped with large, fluffy white towels and twin sinks. Most of the suite’s colors ranged from a soft off-white to a deep mahogany brown. The walls were four-fifths pale vertical shiplap with the same, regal brown boarding rising to meet it horizontally as it traversed the walls. Small inlaid can lights were nestled in the beveled section of the ceiling, and the bed itself was large; covered in a fluffy down-stuffed comforter the color of easter lilies. An ovular mirror above it created the perfect atmosphere for sleep...and other things. Sepia-toned paintings framed either wall; portraying mysterious yet somehow soothing sceneries.

The curule seat at the end of the bed was draped in a red damask coverlet, and Sephiroth watched out of the corner of his eye as Genesis stroked it covetously...the look on his face somewhat envious. Sapphire irises cut to him, ran the length of his body and then back at the coverlet and he realized that the expression was more _hunger_ than anything. The image of the redhead throwing the scarlet blanket over him; mouthing through the crimson fabric as he lay against the comforter filled his mind and the flush that followed made his companion grin from ear to ear.

As he was busy melting into a silver puddle of embarrassment and lust, a body pressed into him from behind as calloused palms were pressed over his eyes. Thick, silky hair brushed against his temples as warm lips were placed against the shell of his ear. “We’re going to play a game.” And Sephiroth didn’t really need his eyes to know that the redhead was smiling, his melodious voice promising of mischief and more. “You’re going to count to ten, no peeking.” There was a vein of raggedness in those words before the General heard the slight thud of heels, presumably the Commander taking off his shoes… Were they going to play hide and seek? An insistent mouth kept traveling the side of his neck, leaving dizzying open-mouthed kisses, and the shudder that ran down his spine couldn’t be helped especially as his fellow First rolled his hips against his back, languidly, letting him feel the hard outline of his hard-on through the fabric that separated them. “Oh.” There was a minute pause, the words following it uttered in a playful lilting tone. “And cover your ears, because that’s cheating.”

Chuckling, Sephiroth wanted to tell him that as spacious as their suite was, the redhead couldn’t simply get far away enough for the green-eyed man not to feel his presence dancing against his consciousness like the brilliant rays of sun on that wheat field back at Banora. Acceding, he settled the bag down on the floor before covering his ears with his hands, feeling the warmth of those elegant fingers retreat before trying to peek from beneath the bow of silvery lashes. A not so pleased Genesis whose expression seemed really close to crumbling any minute now greeted him.

Pouting, the older man covered his eyes with his hand once more. “Don’t be a spoilsport, Seph.” And he wanted to protest, just to see what the fiery First would come up with when his companion beat him to it. “I’m sure you’ll like the _prize_.” And his voice was a seductive lilting thing that left no room for arguments.

“Alright.” The silver-haired man sighed. “One… Two…”

And there was a muffled chuckle before the silence returned more or less. Soon, he heard a flutter of something as he counted, smiling as he caught himself uttering the numbers quicker until he reached ten.

Opening his eyes and looking around, the only place the redhead could hide was either below the bed… which was highly unlikely, and the ochre curtain that was swaying slightly. A predatory grin edged its way onto his face as he narrowed his eyes; taking off his ankle-high boots as silently as he could before closing the distance between them.

Once he was just on the other side, he yanked the plush drapery aside. Beyond was a walk-in closet, completely empty except for the items that had been covering the redhead only moments ago, however their owner was nowhere to be seen. Approaching the clothes, Sephiroth picked them up from the ground, feeling his grin widen before the door that served as a mirror closed shut behind him.

There was a peal of laughter and Sephiroth let the pieces of fabric drop where they had been, quickly following the running footfalls out into the bedroom. The exhilarated rush of breath was enough to give away the redhead’s current whereabouts.

The sound of running water was made apparent as he entered the bathroom, and he smiled, leaning against the doorframe as he took in the sight of the Commander lounging against the side of the bathtub in all his clothesless glory. His legs were slung casually on either side of the porcelain edge; fingers dangling as if to test the temperature of the water...but the poorly concealed anticipation in his posture was far too telling. The older man’s causality was further betrayed when he tilted his head slightly, peeking sideways under auburn lashes to gauge his reaction.

Sephiroth allowed himself to appreciate the view before stepping forward, his socks sliding soundlessly over the tile in barely-there whispers; cotton against porcelain 'till he halted somewhere between door and tub. Slowly, he lifted his arms to divest himself of his shirt; letting his hands linger here and there as he drew it over his head before letting it fall to the floor. Genesis’ gaze was fixed upon him, blue eyes traversing the length of his body as the silver-haired soldier stopped yet again before allowing his fingers to nudge the waistband of his pants...wiggling slightly beneath the hem as he did so. These he made quicker work of….impatient as he pulled them from his ankles along with his socks. The bracelet went last;  it was placed carefully at the very back of the vanity where it couldn’t fall in the sink or onto the floor.

This accomplished; the green-eyed First made a leisurely way to his companion; slowly sinking down on the edge of the bath in the same manner as the scarlet-haired individual before him. Platinum hair spilled over one shoulder as he placed his hands in front of him; grasping the ledge between them with his thumbs crossed...leaning forward as he did so. Genesis copied the gesture, the pale arc of his lithe form caught by the overhead lights; arms, back, and sides thrown into soft relief as his face and torso were swept into sable shadows. Crimson hair spilled over fine-boned cheeks that spread to make way for a smile that was both playful and deeply affectionate. Tilting his head, Sephiroth let his lips slide just-so against the slightly shadowed contour beneath them before moving to the redhead’s mouth; breathing between parted and anticipatory flesh before drawing him into a slow, soft kiss. The redhead shuddered, the arm in the water lifting to slide warm, calloused, and aqueous over the skin of his shoulder; digging into his back before apparently thinking better of it and letting go.

For a few breathless, anticipatory moments there was only the barely-audible music of their exchange in the tiled space; the hitch of ragged breath, the occasional movement of water as one of them shifted… Closer, closer until their knees met and they rose somewhat, hands clutching thighs and sides and-in Genesis’ case-hair as the minutes spun outwards like the spiral of a galaxy...turning against the tests of time in the star-filled void of space. When he thought his head would explode from lack of air, Sephiroth pulled back, taking that plush bottom lip with him before letting go so he could rest his head on a heaving shoulder and catch his breath. When he spoke, his voice was somewhat hoarse at the edges.

“I was thinking...earlier this morning.” He murmured. “About what to get you.” His lips pulled upwards at one side as the silver-haired soldier practically heard Genesis’ inward groan. “It’s not what you think, and we don’t have to do it now...but I wanted to let you know that...I’m okay with giving myself to you the way you give yourself to me.” And it was telling that the redhead stilled, that the hand in his hair tightened before going soft and lax, coming ‘round to cup the back of his head before stroking down the length of his back. “I’m not saying this because it’s reciprocative, I’m saying it because I want it; I want you.” He huffed against the flushed, somewhat humid skin of the older man’s shoulder. “I know it’s not extravagant...but it’s important, to me.” 

The hand on his back stilled yet again; silence falling around them in a soothing invisible tulle, fluttering gently with their steadying breaths. In a fleeting moment of confidence, Sephiroth wondered if he’d broken the other man by offering him this because Genesis was very still. That was until two warm hands settled on either side of his face, nudging him to raise his head. And when the silver-haired man did look up, the cerulean irises were about to overflow past the pink shores framed by coppery lashes. Plush trembling lips brushed a corner of his mouth, a salty droplet soaking through the seam of his own as the redhead drew closer, and probably even closer if it weren’t for their precarious seating arrangements.

His companion was nuzzling his face, a shaky exhale ghosting across his cheek before the Commander whispered. “You idiot…” There was a fleeting affectionate laugh before he continued, his voice low as though he was whispering sacraments no one should be privy to. “You’re offering me yourself, and you’re thinking about extravagance?” Long fingers tangled in his hair. “I-...” And obviously, Genesis was struggling with himself for a moment, the hold in his hair tightening minutely as an auburn head tilted to press a bruising kiss against the pale column of his neck before pulling back slowly, so Sephiroth could see him.

It was adoration in the blue eyes that met his like he was some deity to the scarlet-haired man. The green-eyed soldier didn’t need him to voice his love, because he could already see it, in everything his companion said and did. And it was more meaningful to him than if he were to say those words just to indulge him. Delicately holding Genesis’ chin, Sephiroth drew him close, slowly, feeling those mile-long lashes flutter as he placed a gentle kiss just blow those moist azure eyes.

“I _want_ you.” The Commander whispered, sheer desire and need in his voice. “But not here. Not now.”

Not another word was uttered as Genesis stood up, the barely-there brush of his hand against his arm enough to beckon him. Stepping into the tub and settling inside, the soft slosh of aqua flowed with the tranquility that had settled between them. As the scarlet-haired man stepped in after him, green eyes watched as the water rippled, slowly, but surely, before his fellow First settled in his arms.

The water was warm, flowing around and between them as the man in his arms moved, slender fingers encircling his wrists slowly while Genesis tilted his head, letting it fall on Sephiroth’s shoulder as he guided his hands to the redhead’s lean torso. Of their own accord, the silver-haired man’s lips brushed against the pale exposed throat, and the way his companion arched against his calloused hands that were rediscovering the angular planes of the older man’s physicality, the way those cerise lips parted to let something between a shaky exhalation of his name and a moan escape, was enough to make the General feel lightheaded. Every kiss, every touch made his nerves light up with a fire that bloomed from those points to engulf his entire being. And Genesis; Genesis was like a theremin in his arms, undulating and ethereal as every inch of that lithe body was becoming alight with pleasure.

His world narrowed down to the heated lips ever parted in the hymn of his name, worshipful, wanting and needing against his skin, to those bright blue eyes burning with desire as they looked at him, never leaving his until the tidal wave of euphoria washed over them.

* * *

An insistent knocking jarred him out of his light slumber. The events leading to how they had ended up on the bed somewhat blurry in his head. Damp auburn tresses tickled the underside of his biceps, and Sephiroth looked down to see a head of red nestled just under his arm. The added weight of a lean leg covering his thighs beneath the comforter and upper still, the strong arm draped over his abdomen left pretty little room for him to move. And the older man was so peacefully and soundly asleep, he didn’t want to, couldn’t wake him up.

This time, the person at their door seemed to slam a fist against the wooden entrance. “Sephiroth. Genesis. Open up.”

It was Angeal.

He cursed and Genesis mumbled something grumpy before wriggling closer to him somewhat. Which really, should have been impossible, but he managed it. Inwardly, he figured the odds of Angeal leaving or breaking down the door were 4/6; not exactly favorable in terms of chance. And it was probably a very expensive door. There was also the stark truth that the dark-haired First was likely only there because Administration had sent him, and Administration had sent him because he had volunteered in favor of a squadron. If the redhead's childhood friend _did_ go away, it was likely their subsequent alarm clock would be heavily aggressive and armed. Angeal knew this, so the odds were probably closer to 2/8. Sephiroth cursed again.

_“_ Mmm _..._ Seph..shh.”

More pounding. More “Open up!”

The General calculated the chances of them surviving a jump from this high up was 5/5. Which was split evenly in a nice clean way he appreciated, but it would hurt. A lot. It would hurt enough that they probably wouldn't be able to run away, and they'd return to HQ on stretchers. It would then be all over the news that they had attempted suicide in order to get away from their professional duties to 'pursue their love in the afterlife.’ The idea made him faintly nauseous but he was also hungry so he chalked it up to a bit of both. It was 2/8 that he could outrun Angeal, and 9/1 that Genesis would. Because they'd have to go through the door and Angeal had his sword and was possibly angry and not sleepy. None of his speculations took into account the time it would take to get dressed.

Sephiroth cursed again and Genesis smacked his arm.

“Look, we all know that if I go, my replacement is going to be much worse.”

Neither of them would fit into the ventilation shafts. That much was certain. The odds of them getting stuck were 10/10 and Genesis just might kill him for having such a brainless idea. Briefly, he entertained the idea of hiding under the bed, but he was fairly certain that he'd never live it down. There was always the closet behind the curtain, but he was certain the layout of the suite was already in the President’s extremely furious grasp. Resigning himself to imminent doom, Sephiroth unraveled himself from Genesis and put a hand to his forehead before reaching out to gently nudge his fellow First.

“Gen, wake up.”

The redhead swatted his hand away, mumbling under his breath about them paying a thousand gil for discretion and privacy, before ordering loudly and out of the blue. “Go away! Let me sleep!”

And Sephiroth looked at the direction of the door with alarm, as the pounding stopped. Recalculating all the odds, and with an overwhelming sense of foreboding, Sephiroth stood up. Taking a damp towel they had left on the seat at the foot of the bed and tying it around his waist, he approached the door. Just as he opened it, his reflexes kicked in because the raven-haired man’s fist was just an inch away from his nose.

“Took you long enough.” Angeal muttered irritatedly, passing him by, probably in pursuit of his redheaded friend.

Closing the thick wooden panel behind him, Sephiroth followed him only to see Genesis’ best friend yank the covers from over the sleeping form on the bed. It seemed like the other First was angry, and specifically angry at the scarlet-haired man who was still lying there, with no care in the world. “Still asleep, Gen?”

“Ugh… What do you want ‘ngeal? It’s my date. Leave me in peace.” The redhead rolled onto his stomach, burying his head under a pillow.

“Alright. How about this?” Strong fingers encircled around a pale ankle, and before Sephiroth could protest -which he wasn’t sure was the right course of action; on second thought, maybe he should have left?- pulled the scarlet-haired man off and over the edge of the bed.

Thankfully, Genesis had turned around mid-attack, the pillow cushioning his head, but his back slammed against the marble, and it was probably a little painful.

“ _What The Fuck Angeal?!_ ” The older man yelled, sitting upright after he’d caught his breath.

And the man in question was rubbing circles against his temples, like a pissed-off mother hen -what Genesis called him at times like this-, before looking at the redhead. “I thought you were more logical to do something like this. Do you two even know what you’re doing now? Going AWOL to go on a _date_?” Angeal’s voice was riddled with worry. “Weren’t you the one who told me you were going to be careful…” The raven-haired man threw his arms up in defeat. “Now, the whole Midgar knows.”

Sephiroth wondered if Angeal realized how much imminent danger he was in. The idea of pulling the Commander out of bed was so rife with negative consequences he was practically going cross-eyed thinking about it. Then again, they'd known each other considerably longer, so maybe the dark-haired First could simply get away with things like that. It didn't look that way, however, because that silver-haired soldier was fairly certain that the redhead was simply stunned. As such thoughts crossed his mind Genesis was slowly coming 'round, and the expression on his face plainly spoke of murder. He wondered-again-if he ought to just leave, because the amount of potential damage his fellow Firsts could do to the hotel was cringeworthy. And he did not want to pay for it.

“Maybe we should all sit down.” He said flatly.

Both men gave him a look that pointedly suggested he be quiet. Against his better judgement, the General began to feel a little bit indignant. Because he was tired and _hungry_ and he did not want to stand around in a towel while his naked partner and said naked partner’s best friend feasibly racked up a massive damage lawsuit.

“I'm just as culpable as he is.” The youngest of them snapped, pointing to the clothless angry redhead.

“I know you are.” Angeal replied irritability, nudging Genesis with his boot in a gesture that was just on the wrong side of rude. It was-Sephiroth reflected-a lot like poking a porcupine. Just...poor judgement. “But Genesis is my oldest friend, and as they say, _‘age before beauty.’”_

Sephiroth wanted to melt into the floor.

Really, he wanted to take off the towel and get dressed but he didn't trust either man to keep a sane or rational head on their shoulders if he left the room. Genesis was practically foaming at the mouth and his dark-haired comrade was looking equally thunderous. He wondered-briefly-if he could simply steal the Buster Sword and knock them both out. This idea was quickly discarded because then he would be the target of their ire upon returning to HQ. He also didn't fancy the idea of dragging two very heavy men back to headquarters. Taking a deep breath, the green-eyed soldier scowled intensely before opening his mouth again. Unfortunately, it wasn't to say anything particularly clever.

“If you don't need me I'll just go back to bed.”

Right at that moment, Genesis pounced like a feline, slamming into Angeal who took a couple of steps back before steadying himself. Long fingers were clutching the knitted First Class uniform, as the redhead snapped. “I had to! I had to, _Alright?_ Rebecca was threatening me with a recording of us fucking! I _had_ no choice!”

For a moment, it seemed like the raven-haired man was going to be sick, his features looking deathly pale before he somewhat recovered himself, countering. “Still, you could have done a press conference.”

Letting go, Genesis walked a couple of steps toward the silver-haired man, cradling his head and tugging on the unruly fiery tresses before abruptly whipping around, barking. “This is My Life! I’ll do with it as I Please!”

“You’re a goddamned Soldier! You have duties, responsibilitie-...”

“Fuck you, your soldier honor and responsibilities! You ruined my date!” Genesis was practically yelling. There was a pause before the redhead continued. “Stop Barging in on my Life!” And the second those words left his mouth, it seemed like the dark-haired First was slapped in the face.

The silence that fell around them was tangible, heavy with tension so thick it was suffocating. Angeal’s shoulders had imperceptibly fallen forward, his stance defeated as he looked down, whispering an almost inaudible “I see. Alright.” before passing Genesis by, who seemed to be frozen in his spot. Sephiroth almost flinched as the sable-haired soldier placed an encouraging calloused hand on his bare shoulder, his sky blue eyes understanding and kind, not at all dissimilar to his mother as he wished them good luck with Administration.

“Angeal…” Genesis whispered but the slam of the door was the redhead’s only answer as his partner’s best friend left.

For a few moments, the silver-haired First didn't know what to do. He knew automatically that what the Commander had said to the dark-haired soldier was out of line...but he also knew the reasoning behind it. The older man was not the type to make excuses for himself, nor did he feel the need to. And when those close to him questioned his actions it made him feel cornered and looked down upon. In some ways...it was a little childish, but at the same time it showcased Genesis’ fierce sense of independence; his refusal to rely on others to make decisions. Sephiroth was the last person who could judge the need to be unfettered, mostly because he had always been fettered. And in any case, he loved the blue-eyed soldier's fierceness; it was one of the things they had in common...though he supposed that his was more subtle.

Crossing to the curule couch, the silver-haired soldier picked up the large scarlet duvet. Shaking it out, he approached his fellow First, taking his hand and leading him to the backless loveseat. Gently, he urged him to sit before wrapping the blanket first around his shoulders and then stretching to throw it around Genesis as well; letting the ends meet between them and tucking them in. Gently, he pulled the redhead to his chest... stroking through thick scarlet hair as the older man drew his knees up reflexively. Sephiroth echoed the gesture until they were entwined atop the seat...arms and legs tangled in a kind of unified tension and apprehension.

The Commander’s expression hovered somewhere between bemusement and defeat, as if he wasn't entirely sure what had made him lash out so horribly but accepting of the fact that there wasn't really anything he could do about it now. Sapphire eyes were clouded with an excess of rumination, and the green-eyed First wondered what it cost his companion to give things such a constant suffusion of passion. Kissing a furrowed brow, Sephiroth let his fingers slide up the scarlet-haired soldier's arm, stroking two fingers over the underside of an elbow before curling long digits 'round to grasp the redhead's bicep. Genesis exhaled shakily, as if he'd been holding his breath since Angeal left and only now was allowing himself to expel it.

“Angeal cares.” Sephiroth murmured. “But you care too.”

“I know…” Genesis whined somewhat. “It’s just that… when we wanted to join SOLDIER, he was as eager as I was; he was there with me every step of the way… For something that now, I realize wasn’t the end goal of my life…” A shiver shook the pale form that seemed to keep shrinking against him. “I always imagined myself leaning on Rapier, dying on some nameless battlefield…” Sephiroth tightened his hold around him, wanting to protest but the older man continued with a vague sense of loss that was at the same time both foreign and familiar. “That image is gone now…” And the silver-haired man couldn’t see but he could definitely feel his partner frowning as he struggled with his words. “I want to see you… and me… together, like that day at the falls… somewhere quiet and serene…” It seemed to him that these thoughts were new to his fellow First, because disbelief was following his voice with every uttered word. “I want you more than anything and they… they don’t let me… And Angeal isn’t with me anymore…” Genesis said at length before falling quiet.

The younger man knew how valuable the words he was hearing were, especially to him. Since their time in Mideel, and then at Gillian’s in Banora, he’d known that he wanted something else in his life. Something softer and quieter. The fact that the man currently wrapped in his arms wanted it too was staggering. It left him somewhat breathless, really, the idea that his fellow First might desire the same simplicity and unification that he did. At the same time he understood how dangerous that idyllic picture of domesticity could be...how tempting it was to succumb to those ideals when their lives were very clearly not their own. Maybe it would be different if they weren’t who they were; indispensable, vital players in a political and military game that neither of them were particularly passionate about anymore.

But it was impossible to ignore the warmth that flooded into his soul at the older man’s declaration. Because it was so near to a declaration of love. Really, it was more than that, it was a declaration of love to the degree of wanting someone indefinitely; the desire to create a life outside of dogma and regime. Swallowing, Sephiroth drew Genesis chin up so he could look at him. Those sapphire eyes were still clouded, but they seemed to widen in the face of his expression. What it could possibly look like, he didn’t know. Only that it felt like his heart was suddenly going to escape from his chest and bounce around the room. He didn’t think he’d had a time in his life where he was happier.

“Genesis.” He said hoarsely. “You have no idea how much that means to me.” The man in question flushed...appeared to try to draw away for a minute but soon relented. “I love you.” Sephiroth said quietly. “I love you, and I want the same thing.” Bestowing his second-in-command with a kiss, he leaned forward somewhat, until he could rest his chin over thick scarlet locks. “I feel so incredibly lucky.”

They were sitting there together for a couple of minutes when there was a grumble. Feeling his lips stretch into a grin, Sephiroth tilted his head to find the older man blushing the color of his hair. Suddenly remembering the pressing hunger he’d felt only minutes ago, the silver-haired soldier decided that before his stomach could join in and protest, they could call room service; both of them feeling content to stay where they could afford the luxury of a meager amount of privacy.

By the time the food arrived, Genesis had pulled the cream curtains covering the panoramic window aside so they could eat their early dinner on the bed while watching as the Sol began its slow but inevitable trek toward the horizon, talking about everything and nothing.

And as their day together was starting to come to an end, leaning against the pile of pillows the scarlet-haired man had gathered together at the head of the bed, Sephiroth decided to cherish each single moment they had left; to commit to memory the sense of security and peace he felt as he leaned his cheek against the crown of auburn tresses. Vaguely, he tried not to think about the dark endless night that awaited them, before a light slumber robbed him of his consciousness as the indigo of the welkin, the last radiant rays from the day.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Genesis had never seen anything like that. ‘That’, being Hojo and a throng of lab assistants swarming the lobby when they’d returned to the headquarters. The moment they set foot inside, a syringe had lodged itself inside his lover’s neck, and the scarlet-haired man had panicked like he never had when he saw Sephiroth go lax beside him.

It’d been a terrifying moment.

The Commander hadn’t waited to count the number of hands that swarmed in to take the silver-haired man away from him, wishing he could materialize Rapier out of thin air to chop them down. Instead, Genesis had cast a Wall, wild azure eyes roaming the crowd to search for Hojo as he’d looped one strong arm around his own neck, leaning his companion’s unstable body against himself.

What had ensued was a verbal attack between a redheaded First Class and the head of the Science department. It didn’t take long for the madman to best him, however, especially when Sephiroth mumbled something garbled that resembled his name before that brilliant head of silver lolled forward, the fingers that had been holding tightly to his shirt letting go and they had nearly crashed to the floor.

When Hojo told him that the General would end up comatose if they didn’t take him to the labs to give him the antidote, Genesis realized he didn’t have much of a choice.

The thought only occurred to him later that Sephiroth’s caretaker had basically poisoned his charge to make him cooperate; and by cooperate, he meant _incapacitate_.

In the end, the scarlet-haired First had agreed to lay off on the condition that he’d accompany them to labs; which had earned him a savagely intrigued gaze behind black-rimmed spectacles but no protest before the scientist motioned for them to follow.

Half-carrying and half-dragging his General through the winding fluorescent-lit corridors of the science department, Genesis would have tried pushing his luck to force Hojo into letting him inside his section of the ward were it not for the frigidity that was extending past his lover’s elegant fingers.

It’d felt like he was handing them a part of himself, a sizeable portion of his soul, as the Commander watched them take Sephiroth away.

Tearing his eyes away from the keycard slot by the side of the double doors, Genesis rubbed his neck before clasping his hands around his drawn up knees. He didn’t particularly care how pathetic or miserable he looked at the moment; he just wanted this whole ordeal to be finished sooner. His useless access card lay there on the ground. He’d tried it over and over again but to no avail. Administration had probably nullified his clearances, but the redhead really couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment. No matter what he did, his thoughts circuited back to the silver-haired individual past those doors…

Genesis felt like he was crumbling to pieces.

Remnants of him from the past hours were there with him inside the oddly empty corridors -and was it really odd? It was 2 in the morning now-; one was pulling on short auburn tresses, the other was pacing impatiently, another was shaking with the barely suppressed urge to punch the wall or barrel through the metal door to his right…

Maybe crumbling to pieces wasn’t the right word. He was losing his mind.

The fabric of his jeans was digging into his forehead where he leaned it against his knees; dispassionately watching as the minutes turned into hours on the dim cracked display of his phone where it lay between his legs.

By 4:45 in the morning, Genesis found his fingers typing a message to his raven-haired friend.

There was still no sign of Sephiroth.

_New message To: ‘Geal_

_I’m sorry, Angeal. I’m such an idiot. What I said…_

No, scrap that.

_New message To: ‘Geal_

_Angeal… I know what I said…_

Fuck this.

_New message To: ‘Geal_

_What I said was way outta line. I don’t know if I could turn back time I would take it back, because… you know._

A sigh passed his lips, and Genesis looked up at the white wall of titanium, concrete, and steel in front of him, but not really, before looking back down.

_New message To: ‘Geal_

_What I said was way outta line. I don’t know if I could turn back time I would take it back, because… you know. Angeal… I love him…  I want to live with him in a way I’ve never wanted with anyone else… The mere thought of losing him... I’m hopeless..._

_And you’re not here with me anymore… I’m so fucking needy and pathetic… I keep hurting everyone..._

_I didn’t write these to tell you a sob story. I guess it’s my horrible way of saying I’m sorry. I really don’t know what I’m doing these days… Feels like I’m losing control… and it’s both exhilarating and terrifying because I want it._

_I’m sorry for writing you a Loveless this early in the morning. I… know you need time; weeks, months, it’s understandable. Just… don’t leave me, alright?_

Before he could have the chance to overthink it and rewrite it for the umpteenth time, Genesis pushed the send button and flipped his phone shut, rather forcefully. Honestly, he didn’t expect the raven-haired man to answer, considering how early it was.

Now that all was said and done, he closed his eyes-

-a series of vibrations jolted him awake.

Blearily, the Commander flipped his phone open.

_Time: 0520 Sender: ‘Geal_

_Im sorry too Gen. I shouldve trusted & respected u. I just worry needlessly abt both of u. I hope u both know what ur doin._

_I spoke with Ad got them to lay off for the day. Dunno if it worked._

_Im gonna need some time nothing like that tho but my doors alwys open to u both._

_I love u Gen._

A small smile was tugging on his lips as he reread the message Angeal had sent him, and a breath he didn’t know he was holding escaped him. Right then, there was a sound of footfalls coming from beyond the double door; shuffling and uneven as they drew near.

Letting the shoulder band of his bag fall through his grasp, Genesis stood up, his lips pressed into a thin line, a frown settling over his brow as a cold feeling slithered and coiled in the pit of his stomach. There was the sound of someone fumbling with a keycard on the opposite side; as if blindly searching for the mechanism that would allow it to swing open. There was the indicative beep of engagement and the redhead watched as the hydraulic doors parted to reveal the man of the hour.

The only problem was that he was covered in blood.

 _‘Covered in blood’_ was kind of an understatement, really. Sephiroth appeared to be missing his shirt, and where the dermis was exposed to the open air...the Commander was privy to seeing what looked like long, poorly stitched gashes. They crisscrossed his torso...expansive, inflamed and dripping hemoglobin onto the floor and onto his pants. His hair was matted with rubicund; stuck to his face in some places and obscuring his visage. Those beautiful lips were practically paper-thin and bone-white; trembling with the exertion it took to move one foot in front of the other. The General was barefoot, which was honestly horrifying considering the number of bacteria swimming about a scientific lab at any given point...and what he could see of the rest of his body was similarly battered and bruised. It looked-to all intents and purposes-like Hojo had torn the younger man apart and then put him back together. Which-physiologically-was _impossible..._ but there was no other way that Genesis could wrap his mind around it.

The scarlet-haired soldier made a strangled sound, caught between outrage and horror. What was more telling, more abhorrent than anything before him was the way Sephiroth was _moving._ The silver-haired First ambulated as if he was accustomed to this...as if this wasn’t the first time he had experienced something like this to such a degree. He was conscious of the forward motion in terms of his legs, feet, and torso...and Genesis didn’t know _what_ to think about that...what to feel about it. At his infinitesimal noise, the green-eyed man lifted his head...emerald irises widened minutely before-apparently-the thought process was too much and they momentarily rolled back inside his skull. Sephiroth swayed before righting himself and refocusing, mouth working sluggishly as he appeared to try to string words together. Then-abruptly-he turned and gestured somewhere to their left.

“Have t’shower.” He slurred. “C-can’t leave like this.”

It took a moment for him to understand the meaning behind the gesture or the words what-remained-of-his-lover was uttering. The direness of the situation was so obtrusive that the scarlet-haired soldier felt autopilot take over. Taking the keycard out of slack fingers, Genesis tried to be as delicate as possible so as not to cause the younger man any more pain than what was necessary. Swiping it in the slot he had been eyeing for a hundred times that day, Sephiroth mumbled something about them going the wrong way, that the showers weren’t there.

But the blue-eyed First wasn’t going to take them to the showers.

Hastily looking around for a chair, anything that could support the barely conscious man leaning on him, Genesis had to suppress the whimper that was rising up his throat. Because it was Sephiroth’s blood soaking through his white shirt… It was Sephiroth’s blood… The sentence seemed to keep circulating and repeating in his head with every step they took. The same man who rarely shed a single crimson drop during their missions together was now leaving a trail of carmine behind them.

Finally lowering the green-eyed man onto an office chair, and gently pushing him back as he protested, tried to get up only to slump back in the chair with a pained sigh, the crimson-haired Commander felt bloodlust take over.

He was seeing red.

Long purposeful strides carried him forward as he yelled. “HOJO!” A rush of adrenaline surged through his body, making his extremities tingle with the same bizarre yet familiar feeling as he cast magic before something cold materialized in his right fist. Genesis didn’t need to look at it to know it was Rapier.

Hurling chairs, tables and everything that stood in his way, the Commander felt his sword flare as though in response to the emotions that were blazing inside him. Gripping the hilt in a vice-like grip that was sure to leave bruises in his bare palm, the fiery-haired soldier tore through the thick slabs of metal. The sparks of electricity painted his face in stark contrasting colors before he kicked the door open. Inside, in the middle of the room, the old man turned to regard him with a cold amused gaze, slowly taking off his glasses as a black eyebrow rose on that high forehead in a self-satisfied expression. It seemed that Hojo didn’t realize that this was the last day of his life; the thought along with what was greeting his cerulean eyes made his blood boil, and the snarl that left his lips was almost inhuman.

There was a maniac cackle before the professor turned to face him head-on, opening his arms to show him he had no weapons underneath the white lab coat. Taunting him. Pestering him. “What are you waiting for?”

“DIE!” Genesis raised his sword, lunging forward as he declared.

In that moment, everything seemed to slow down. The redhead was painfully aware of the scarlet luminescence arcing over the heft of his blade; catching the painfully bright lights and throwing them back. Hojo’s manic grin appeared to spread until it was comically grotesque...like the smile of an empty theatre mask and twice as hollow. The rasp of his own breath was unseemingly loud, as was the rapid thud of his pulse. Every grey, greasy, stringy hair on the scientist’s head seemed to separate into singular threads; like the weave of a massive spider...while the arachnid sat in its midst. The rage boiling through his veins only seemed to build; 'till it was an inferno of righteous indignation, horror, and grief. The very air seemed to shimmer between hero and heathen, the Commander's lips pulling back into a snarl as sapphire eyes flashed with retribution. He swung-

-And his blade landed atop Masamune's length.

For a moment he reeled, because his focus had been so complete and so sure that he was rattled to the bone. Genesis’ vision blurred somewhat as his adrenaline rush turned into a crash and he was brought back to earth disoriented and shaking. While this was happening he was abruptly disarmed, Rapier was kicked away to clatter over the tiles. Dimly, he registered that it was _Sephiroth_ who had stopped him; Sephiroth who was standing between them; so pale he was nearly grey and sweating profusely. And he was at once confused and outraged because really?! He was defending someone who had just ripped him apart limb from limb?! But the defensiveness in the silver-haired man's posture wasn't cohesive with the _terror_ in his eyes. And it wasn't terror for Hojo...it was for something else.

“ _-Don’t!_ ”He wheezed.

And like the cackle of an aged crow, Hojo began to laugh. He laughed until tears streamed down his face and his shoulders shook with it.

“Look at what a good dog he is.” The scientist chortled. A wrinkled, withered hand patted Sephiroth's shoulder with undue force as he stood. “You could learn a thing or two from him, Commander.”

Upon physical contact, Sephiroth collapsed. A wound in his side ripped its stitches and began to bleed profusely. Genesis was torn between helping him and going after the swiftly retreating madman, but long, slender fingers tinged with blue grasped the hem of his pants... shaking violently.

“Don't.” Sephiroth moaned. “ _Please,_ don't!”

His conflicted azure eyes darted between Hojo and his lover. The need to avenge the man currently lying in a crumpled heap at his feet was tearing at his insides, insidious claws leaving deep gashes that oozed with the thick black muck of hatred; of rage, of a multitude of emotions he couldn’t name yet his head was reeling with them.

Something broke inside him as he tore his eyes away from the empty space the back of a fluttering lab coat had occupied moments ago, looking around the lab for surgical staples, gauze, anything to staunch the bleeding, to bring the gaping wound together so Sephiroth could heal. So Genesis could heal him. He nearly tore down the place until he found what he’d been looking for, and by the time he sat down beside the younger man with a tray of said items, those emerald eyes were closed.

Panic rushed up inside him, constricting his throat, because _No, no, no… Goddess, no!_ The pained scream that wanted to escape his lips was strangled as trembling fingers hastily encircled a pale wrist, checking for Sephiroth’s pulse. A flimsy flame of relief kindled inside him because the younger man was alive… his partner was alive, but not for long if Genesis kept staring at him while he bathed in the puddle of blood soaking through the redhead’s jeans. Quickly, the Commander reached for the stapler and tried to close the wound with pretty much unevenly spaced fasteners. The slight wince that flashed on the deathly pale face every time made him want to apologize, to try anything he could do to soothe the wounded man, because he’d probably been in enough pain for one day.

But Genesis didn’t.

“ _Gen…_ ”

And he wanted to slap the green-eyed First, to kiss him, to walk away and leave him here so that the _caretaker_ who had torn him limb from limb for the past six hours would piece him back together… but his heart wasn’t made of stone; the scarlet-haired soldier had come to realize.

Stone didn’t bleed.

So, he couldn’t.

Calloused fingers reached for his, and the way they flopped weakly to the cold metal floor as the redhead swatted them away was heart-wrenching. Because those were the same fingers that had held Masamune’s hilt only minutes ago firmly enough to ward off his vehement swing, held Masamune to defend the man who had nearly killed his love. _Against him._

“ _Gen…_ ” The same deep voice that had the power of making him feel reborn pleaded.

And by Goddess.

_Stop talking… Please stop…_

Genesis wanted to say, but he knew that if he opened his mouth, he was going to wail, to scream and shout, and he didn’t think he’d be able to stop. It wasn’t what they needed at the moment.

So he tried to focus on the matter at hand; clean the wounds with antiseptic, and then dress them. Because this was the labs for fuck’s sake, and people didn’t go around lying on the ground when they were in one piece, let alone in the state his companion was in. Helping the General sit up, the older man bit the inside of his cheek so hard it bled, because this couldn’t, _shouldn’t_ be happening. The forceps trembled in his fingers every time Sephiroth’s breath hitched, the sharp jagged lines beneath the swab weeping disinfectant-diluted blood that soaked the waistband of his partner’s stained pants. The overwhelming awareness of a weary green gaze was ever present at the edges of his consciousness for the entirety of his ministrations, but the blue-eyed First didn’t, _couldn’t_ , look up. Instead, his irises studiously followed the path of the white fabric as his digits wound it around the kintsugi sculpture of the younger man’s torso.

By the time he had helped his comrade stand up, the Commander simply felt too drained to try and reverse how his sword had come into existence. Thankfully, Masamune wasn’t lying around, which meant the younger man had known how to do whatever had happened earlier. Surprisingly, Genesis realized he was too emotionally fatigued to feel fascinated by this new discovery, and by the fact that there were things he still didn’t know about his silver-haired companion; he was too exhausted to feel envious about the fact that Sephiroth already knew about this new found ability.

Taking out the General’s blood-smeared key card, they made it outside; one slow step ahead of another, a pause and his companion groaned as the redhead reached down to retrieve his bag from where it had fallen, Rapier’s tip scraping against the ground as he straightened, and then they took another step and another. And Genesis tried to fill his head with numbers to keep himself sane.

_45 steps… 46… 47…_

_120 inhale… exhale… 121…         122…         123…_

_Hang on_ , he wanted to say, but something was pressing down on his throat.

Speaking, he couldn’t do.

The elevator was thankfully empty, and so was the subsequent corridor where the green-eyed First’s apartment was. The redhead hardly cared anyway, moving forward with one purpose only; to get Sephiroth to the safety of his living quarters, cast a Curaga or give him a hi-potion, prepare something for the younger man to eat because his fellow soldier was in no condition to cook, and then get the hell out.

What the older man hadn’t thought about was the process in between setting foot over the threshold and tucking his companion in bed. So, after they’d ended up in the bathroom, tendrils of crimson tingeing the warm clear liquid in the tub while his long fingers washed the hemoglobin out of moonlight tresses, the Commander just stood there over the threshold; watching as his lover waded in and out of consciousness.

Genesis had already changed the water, gotten rid of the gauze, cast a fucking Curaga, but Sephiroth was taking forever to heal and the redhead still thought the water was a bright shade of cerise.

He couldn’t stop thinking about all the other times this had happened in the past, in the ten years they’d known each other, and the General had never uttered a word about it. He couldn’t stop thinking about all the other times his comrade had come back all the way from the labs to his home in such a state.

Obviously, the green-eyed soldier could’ve still taken care of himself if the Commander hadn’t been there; the younger man had even protested as Genesis started running the tub and after that, when he’d proceeded to take the shower head to wash the thick tangled mane. But the older man hadn’t paid him any heed. Briefly, he had entertained the idea of calling Angeal, but his childhood friend had asked for space, and he’d probably had enough of playing the buffer in their quarrels.

His phone was still there on the sink, and calling the raven-haired First was really tempting; to tell him to come here and take over while Genesis went and tore Hojo limb from limb, or wrecked the training room, anything, really… but somewhere, something inside him not trampled by the rage and not mutilated by the hate, was telling him to stay. To not leave Sephiroth alone, because that wasn’t fair and what difference did their being together make if they still licked their wounds in solitude?

So, if their being together meant something, why hadn’t the younger man told him about what that madman had been doing to him all these years? Why had the General even tolerated this when he could chop off that head in less than a blink? Why had he stood up to _him_ and defended Hojo? _What the fuck was wrong with Sephiroth?!_

Genesis was angry. Really, really angry. So angry, he didn’t care to come up with any other words to describe his mood. _So_ angry that he barely registered the sound of water rippling as the green-eyed soldier shifted somewhat, the pained egress of air through his teeth a barely-audible whisper. With blazing sapphire eyes, the Commander observed as the General sat up somewhat, winced and put a hand to his head before looking somewhat confused about the fact that he was in the bathtub.

Even as he’d been monitoring the situation, the stitches essentially holding him together were slowly dissolving into regenerated dermis. Mako was finally doing its job, but that didn’t particularly make the scarlet-haired First feel any better. Because Hojo was still alive somewhere, and the reason for it was currently gradually healing in a crimson-soaked tub. The more he thought about it, the more irate and confused he became. Because enough was enough; you had to have a limit to torture somewhere.

And it was abundantly evident that Sephiroth didn’t respect himself enough to draw a hard line in terms of his treatment. That was extremely upsetting because it meant that despite his confidence in the field and otherwise, the silver-haired First didn’t _love_ himself enough to defend himself. Subsequently, such a fact was inherently crushing because how could the younger man love him if he didn’t even love himself? Genesis didn’t think he was particularly glorious himself, but at least he didn’t think he was worthy of dismemberment.

Apparently, his superior did...to the point where he allowed it over and over again. It broke his heart because...as far as he was concerned, self-love was a component of reciprocation. You couldn’t give something you didn’t have. Some small, miniscule part of him whispered that he might be overlooking something vital, but the redhead refused to consider it. He couldn’t make excuses for something like this, and not only because it dishonored Sephiroth.

No...Genesis couldn’t keep making excuses because it also dishonored himself.

The aloofness and lack of sociability he could handle...because the General wasn’t exactly a social expert. He could also handle the fact that the silver-haired soldier was slow to emotional faith and therefore somewhat stoic. What the Commander could _not_ handle was his flagrant disregard for how this would make him-as a partner-feel. No relationship should have the added aspect of watching the object of their affections bleed to death all over the floor. That was not acceptable, it wasn’t something anyone should have to handle....no matter their feelings for the individual in question. So when Sephiroth finally was able to open his mouth and speak, the redhead was already enmired in a sea of turmoil and indecision.

“Thank you, for stopping.” He rasped.

And if Genesis hadn't wanted to hurt the younger man before, he _certainly_ did now. Because the silver-haired First was thanking him for saving a monstrosity. Standing, seemingly oblivious to his ire, Sephiroth staggered slightly before getting out of the tub. Dripping red-tinged water across the tiles, he retrieved a towel from a cabinet and began to perfunctorily and habitually rub himself dry, the corner of his eyes tightening somewhat when the fabric pulled against ragged stitching.

The redhead watched, standing where he’d been for the past several minutes, as the younger man moved out of the bedroom, probably to get something to wear from his closet. His hands were balled into fists by the time Sephiroth returned, clothed in what appeared to be cotton, loose nondescript garments. Briefly, the thought occurred to him that maybe, just maybe now was not the time to explode.

The silver-haired man was currently pulling the sheets aside, his back to him, as Genesis opened his mouth, his voice a low dangerous hiss. “ _How could you?_ ” His azure eyes were narrowed, cerise lips pressed into a thin pale line.

His partner paused, apparently in the process of slipping into bed. Those lynx-like, muscular shoulders drooped, as if the General had been anticipating this sort of thing but had inwardly hoped to avoid it until later. This-if possible-made the older man even angrier, because really?! Sephiroth had thought he could _avoid_ this? Like he thought he could avoid addressing the fact that he was accustomed to this? That this was as normal to him as a walk in the park, or perhaps even more normal? The Commander gritted his teeth as the green-eyed First turned; slowly, wearily, resignedly…as if _dreading_ the subsequent encounter. Bitterness flooded Genesis’ psyche as he observed...almost strong enough to drown out the fury rushing through his veins, but not quite. Fine.

If Sephiroth was going to dread this, he was going to give him a _reason._

Emerald irises widened as the scarlet-haired soldier stalked forward. The silver-haired First seemed to almost shrink into himself as he approached, platinum strands falling forward as he appeared to shie away. And that was equally ridiculous, because how could he quail in front of _him_ and not in front of Hojo? The snarl that bubbled from the redhead's mouth was borne from a sense of both betrayal and confusion. Because how _dare_ the man before him act as if he was afraid?! As if he thought perhaps Genesis could do worse than the evil, cackling, maniac currently cavorting about the labs countless floors below. The concept was almost laughable in its absurdity, pathetic in its oddity. A few months ago, he might have simply ended things right now, right here without a second thought to how it would affect the younger man. But his current goal was to be understood; and if he had to beat some sense into Sephiroth with his bare hands in order to do so... _he would do it._

“Genesis.” The individual in question said warily, raising his hands. “I-”

Genesis yanked on the neckline of the younger man’s shirt, the fabric wrinkling as he clutched it so hard his knuckles were chalky. The urge to punch Sephiroth in the nose was so strong, he had to bite his lip, the ugliest sneer twisting his features as he hissed in that pale face. Because if the silver-haired man wanted pain, the Commander could give it to him, in a multitude of ways. “ _Do you see it?_ ” The redhead turned his head to the side, letting his partner see the caked blood on his cheek and the side of his neck, before abruptly turning around, blazing azure eyes boring into those green pools that were staring at him with that ridiculous expression. “It’s your blood. _Your blood._ ” He paused, catching his breath, because now, the scarlet-haired soldier wasn’t able to stop. “You don’t bleed all over me and everything when you get wounded in battle. And you let _him_ poke and prod _you_? Why? Why Sephiroth, huh? And for how long…? _Ten fucking years_ you didn’t say anything to me, to us. You didn’t say anything to me when we got together.”

The redhead let him go, or rather pushed him and the way Sephiroth went with it, slumping heavily on the bed, made Genesis sick. Pointing an accusatory finger in the General’s face, he continued. “You insulted us. Insulted _me._ ” Letting out a hollow laugh, the blue-eyed man started pacing at the foot of the bed. “Defending that sadistic psycho who almost killed you. _Against me._ ”

Turning around to see the silver-haired man slouching where he’d left him, the Commander sneered, hatred dripping from every single word like vitriol. “ _Hmph_. This resignation of yours.” Fire was engulfing his hand as Genesis raised his fist, yelling. “ _Stand up and face me now if_ **this** _means anything to you._ ” His cerulean eyes had iced over. “ _If_ **Us** _means anything to you._ ”

And he did stand up.

Only it wasn’t really standing, it was more like lunging. Sephiroth went from somewhat tepid to _furious_ so fast it would have left the scarlet-haired man reeling if he wasn’t equally as furious. The silver-haired soldier was abruptly vertical, a platinum blur that suffused his vision in a starlight-colored haze. The hands that grasped his collar were as hard as iron, gripping vice-like; as if determined to suck the life right out of his shirt and leave it torn on the floor. The fabric seemed to groan under his tenuous grasp...threads fraying somewhat until a virulent shove knocked him backwards, up against the wall opposite the bed. And he was staring at pools of viridian so incensed he didn’t think he recognized them anymore. They seemed to _bleed_ enmity in a way that was wholly unlike the man that he knew. Those shapely, virile lips were pulled back into a smile that was more of a snarl than anything, and normally graceful...arching brows were pulled together in an expression of macabre vindication that settled over pulchritudinous features like the slow ingress of deadly poison.

The air exploded from Genesis’ lungs; sought refuge in his mouth only to push past his lips in a violent, forced expulsion that left him gasping for it. Sephiroth made a strangled, irate noise that was wholly animal as his grip tightened somewhat...not enough to constrict blood flow to his brain but pretty damn near to it. The length of that powerful body was pressed against every line of his own, but there was no exhilatory or desirous feel to it. In some ways, the redhead understood that this was the face the younger man presented to those he'd been ordered to dispatch...to enemies in the field that dared to defy him. And yet...behind all that was the smallest modicum of restraint. Because if the younger man had wanted to kill him, he'd have snapped his neck already. This really didn't make Genesis feel any better, but it was an acknowledged verity he couldn't ignore.

“ _Twenty-three years._ ” Sephiroth hissed, and the tone of his voice was as black as a moonless midnight. “Twenty-three years I've endured this only to have you belittle me for it.” The fingers at his collar tightened and this time the older man did feel slightly dizzy. “You think I do this for _fun??_ That everything leading me to where I am today was done for sport?! I was locked up in the labs until I was _nine years old,_ Hojo did worse things to me then than he does now. Do you know what it's like to be _five_ and wonder if you're going to go under the knife or be plunged into a mako tank?! Do you know what it's like to be _twelve_ and command a legion of men relying solely on you for their welfare?”

“Do you know what it's like to acknowledge that any perceived failure could land you back in the dark, back on the surgical table, or _disposed of?_ What do you think would have happened if I hadn't let them dose me earlier?” The hand shook minutely before loosening somewhat. “They would have killed you Genesis, and I understand how capable you are as an individual, but they would have brought you down by hurting Angeal, by drugging him and torturing him if they couldn't get to me first.” That sneer deepened. “But you didn't think of that, you didn't acknowledge that maybe this didn't have anything to do with hurting you and _everything_ to do with saving your life! Saving the life of your friend!” A strange look passed over Sephiroth's features then, something cold and primal and hateful. “So don't preach to me about _honor_ or dishonor, don't preach to me about knowing and not knowing because I know everything this filthy company sinks their claws into. I know what it's like to be alone and alien. I know what it's like to be a possession of something lesser than what you are...a _people_ that are lesser than you are, a purpose that is lesser than your intended purpose. I-”

He stopped and abruptly paled; a thin runnel of blood escaping from his nose before he released Genesis and staggered back; a hand pressed against his head, his hair swinging forward like a curtain to obscure his visage as he stumbled before righting himself...looking almost childlike in his bewilderment.

If his head hadn’t been reeling with the gravity of Sephiroth’s tirade, the redhead would have rushed to the younger man the second the scent of copper filled his senses. Genesis had wanted to punch the silver-haired man in the face, only a minute ago. If he could, he’d really wanted to test the strength of these walls by throwing the General at and through them. But right now, he was wondering if his partner had got a concussion from collapsing in the labs earlier.

All the rage and hatred seemed to drain from him, along with all the nasty remarks and snide retorts that were just on the tip of his tongue. Dread twisted cold like a serpent in the pit of his stomach as he stepped forward, slowly but not soundlessly so his fellow First could hear him. “Seph?” Genesis whispered, his auburn eyebrows drawing together as he gently cradled the side of that pale neck, wiping the blood away with his other thumb before it could reach those pale lips. The skin under his fingers was somewhat warmer than usual, but nothing outside normal parameters. Sephiroth's pupils had contracted and he was shivering, but it seemed more out of confusion than anything. His initial conclusion was confirmed when the silver-haired First spoke; his voice somewhat haggard.

“Don't…” He appeared to be struggling, and the redhead thought he caught the faintest sheen of moisture over sclera before the General ducked away again. “ _Don't touch me.”_

And just exactly as fast as the emotions intoxicating him only moments ago had left him, they resurged, boiling in his veins, crashing back against his consciousness in a tidal wave. Because that was the second time that day, and Genesis had had enough. Bunching up the fabric of Sephiroth’s collar, he slammed the younger man where the General had pinned him only minutes ago. “This is for scaring _the shit_ outta me.” Rearing back, the redhead’s fist was only a couple of inches away from his partner’s face when the silver-haired man caught it. Puckering his lips as he gritted his teeth in barely contained fury, the Commander tried with his other hand only to have it caught yet again.

The same cold primal look flashed over that pale face as Genesis snarled, his hands spasming with strain as he tried to resist the power with which Sephiroth was forcing his fists lower slowly, but surely. “You could’ve at least let me kill that fucking bastard then! To avenge you!” The redhead growled. “Why didn’t you?” Yielding a little so the silver-haired man could push him back a couple of steps, the fiery First used the force and the momentum to throw the General up and over his own head and on the bed; but those hands curling around his fists didn’t let go, making him lose his balance and fall on his back.

For a moment, he was winded, staring at the waterfall of silver cascading over the edge of the bed, before rolling aside quickly just as a fist collided to the floor next to where his head had been. “ _Good dog, huh?_ Look what _he’s_ having you do to _us_!” Genesis taunted as he got up onto his feet, leaping onto and over the bed as he continued. “Why does everyone get a say, except _me_? When are you gonna start defending us, defendi-...”

Spider cracks formed on the wall behind the redhead with the sheer force Sephiroth slammed into him, and before Genesis could catch his breath, a forearm was pressed against his windpipe, making him wheeze, but not hard enough to choke him. Vaguely, the Commander thought about the bruises blooming against his back, because the thin fabric of his shirt was definitely doing nothing to absorb the impact. A corner of his lips twitched with a barely contained smirk as he raised his chin defiantly.

In all honesty, under the sea of roiling wrath and animosity, the scarlet-haired First was afraid. The mere thought of a future without the green-eyed soldier had been enough to rattle him to the core, and the picture his companion had painted for him earlier was a bleak watercolor of black and red splotches; dark, intrusive, insidious. What Sephiroth had told him only moments ago had affected him in ways he wasn’t yet ready to comprehend, ready to admit. It made him want for things that didn’t sit well with his own personality.

The silver-haired man had shared with him what he possibly hadn’t told anyone, and as much as Genesis’ heart was bleeding for him, it also fueled his abhorrence for the man probably filing a report against him in the sixty-seventh floor for ruining his labs.

What the General had told him about Shinra, about them using Angeal as a means to hurt him, using his lover to bring the Commander to his knees… It was too much, just too much. Because as much as they were pawns on a chessboard, they weren’t puppets, lifeless husks in some twisted macabre play; they were humans, and as much as Administration’s authority was overreaching, they couldn’t just make them disappear… Could they?

His thoughts were racing, going off in tangents all at the same time, neurons firing rapidly in his air starved brain in a final attempt to hang onto some semblance of reality that was quickly escaping him, that was quickly turning into a nightmare with no way out.

Suddenly everything seemed so hollow. Their _freedom_ to be with each other, their _freedom_ with their lives… Genesis had always thought that it was death that he’d be forced to face at the very end, that their lives weren’t their own because of that constant entity being entwined and ingrained so deeply in their souls, in their lives…

_...I’d rather be in a world where the two of you were happy and successful as comrades, than apart, imprisoned, and miserable as lovers..._

The images of him and Sephiroth wasting away in solitary confinement, apart from each other while no one knew what had befallen them flashed in front of his eyes… Because according to the green-eyed man, there were no lines, no bounds, nothing… Shinra was unrivaled in its greed… it took because it had the power-which was essentially _them_ , and SOLDIER-and therefore was entitled to have its way, with anything and anyone. The sky was the limit. Wutai was the perfect example. There was no room for arguments, for negotiations, nothing.

It was omnipresent tyranny.

In that infinitesimal moment, Genesis realized that he had absolutely no qualms about dying, right then and there; because a death at the hands of the man who loved him, whom the redhead was ready to give his life up for, seemed far more desirable than anything he was likely to get; than the nightmare currently playing in his mind, currently unraveling around him.

Sephiroth’s silky hair was tickling the side of his face, his breaths ghosting over the shell of his ear where he’d possibly whispered something that had escaped the scarlet-haired First. The headlock was still in place, more as a means to shut him up and hold him in place than anything else.

And the General had shut him up alright. Genesis was defeated in more ways his fellow First might have hoped to achieve.

This was his yield.

So when the Commander’s fingers reached up between them to hold onto a pale wrist and the flexor carpi ulnaris, to make it push harder until his vision was hazy around the edges, the silver-haired man abruptly drew back to look at him. Understanding of what he was doing flashed across those features and Sephiroth was suddenly absent. Not in the sense of a great distance, but that he deliberately put space between them to communicate his unwillingness to do what the scarlet-haired soldier was allowing him to do. The face that had so recently been twisted with rage was now filled with existential horror and self-loathing, the hands that had virulently gripped him rose to extend before a visage that appeared to question if they were truly an extension of him. Those long, dynamic fingers trembled before clenching loosely into fists at tension-filled sides. Further, and the General’s retreat was a desperate thing...like he couldn’t bear to acknowledge the truth of what he’d done...of what he was. And in a way, Genesis could understand it. Because soldiers were ingrained in the definition of honor, of dismissable self-value and the duty to a regime that wanted only for their power.

A step more and Sephiroth’s back hit the far wall but he didn’t seem to acknowledge it. Instead, he seemed to try to press himself into it...as though assuming if he pushed hard enough he might be able to disappear. Genesis made a move as if to follow, though whether it was in anger or concern he couldn’t really tell, but the green-eyed First made a horrible...strangled sound in the back of his throat that was so desperate it made the scarlet-haired man stop in his tracks. And the Commander realized-with a jolt of profound dismay-that the younger man wasn’t trying to essentially melt into the plaster because he was afraid of him, but because he was afraid of _himself._ His posture was anything but externally phobic; instead...the silver-haired man seemed reluctant to acknowledge that Genesis was present at all. Sephiroth was descending into a state of self-flagellation that he’d only seen in victims of constant psychological and physiological torment.

And that’s what it was, really.

It took the blue-eyed soldier a minute or two to wrap his mind around the true definition of the terminology; because the idea of it was so bizarre. The concept of abuse was not foreign to him, his adoptive parents were perpetrators of it every single day he’d lived under their roof. Hojo, however, did not have the legal or moral limitations. And it was strange to put the word ‘moral limitations’ on the Rhapsodos family, but neither Mortimer nor Rebecca had ever torn him to shreds or locked him up in a dark room. Sephiroth had been-essentially-conditioned to think that this was how his life should be since he was born. Conditioning was something that took years and years of psychological manipulation; of sensory deprivation and lack of basic niceties that most individuals would consider facets of everyday life. Genesis tried to imagine a silver-haired preschooler bleeding out on a surgical table and found that he couldn’t. Because the idea was so heinous his mind automatically rejected the concept. Despite that, it was still incredibly difficult to imagine the _General_ acquiescing to torture because he didn’t know anything else, because he thought this was the only way to retain the limited amount of freedom he possessed.

However, it was _not_ difficult to imagine a little boy acquiescing to torture because he thought it was normal.

Logically, it was cohesive to assume that that little boy remained somewhere, resigned to whatever the Science Division wanted to do to him. Then, of course, you had the adult Sephiroth who was stubborn, honorable and brilliant...who would constantly war against that little boy unless they had something to protect or defend. When Genesis and Angeal came along, he had something to stand up for...because they bothered to talk to him, because they weren’t afraid of him. And then when he and the redhead had begun their relationship he was forced to extend himself further...though not unwillingly. It had never really occurred to him that he and Angeal were the only concrete relationships Sephiroth had. So _of course_ he was going to protect them; idiotically, thoughtlessly, at no expense to himself. Because he didn’t have anyone else.

And Genesis had-essentially-told him that his efforts were wasteful, brainless, and selfish.

“I’m sorry.” Sephiroth muttered tonelessly. “You’re right.” He slid down the wall into a sitting position, drawing his knees up and staring blankly ahead of him. “You...you should go.”

The redhead wanted to retaliate, to yell that he wasn’t going to leave, that he had told the silver-haired man a hundred times that he wasn’t going anywhere, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He nearly flinched as he remembered how Sephiroth had told him not to touch him only minutes ago. And maybe it was best that he didn’t, because where Genesis’ touches might have been interpreted as affection, the fiery-haired First wondered if it would blister and burn right now if he did. Even if that wasn’t his intention.

In his foolish fit of rage, he had essentially done what he’d been afraid of; what he believed with every iota of his being that the younger man didn’t deserve. He had hurt him… and the Commander bit down on his lip hard to suppress the anguish bubbling up his throat at the brief possibility that, of the bridges connecting them, now only ash and smoke remained.

Genesis didn’t deserve to be here; didn’t deserve to be privy to this. But now that he was, now that he was the cause behind it, he wasn’t going to leave. He’d made a promise. Both to Sephiroth and himself. So, lifting his leaden feet one after another, the blue-eyed man approached the wall in front of him, putting at least a couple of feet between himself and the silver-haired man before he sat down, his posture more or less a mirror of the other occupant of the room. Lifting his head, he stared blankly at the wall in front of him.

_What had he done?_

The silence between them was heavy...though not particularly suffused with anger anymore. Reluctantly, the older man acknowledged that there wasn’t essentially anything else there either. Instead, there was only the sensation of exhaustion...of resignation and bitter defeat. They both could have managed things better, there was no denying that…but _fixing_ this was a wholly different matter. Time seemed to slip away from them...spinning out from under their feet like a relentless current; wider than was fathomable to comprehend...longer than the eye could see. The ticking of the mounted clock was a mundane thing; irritating where it was once distractingly appreciable. Genesis’ breaths felt suddenly overloud, like they were somehow invading the space around them and taking up far too much room.

Gradually, the scarlet-haired soldier became aware that Sephiroth wasn’t as tense as he had been. He was still seated, still facing ahead but his gaze was less forced neutrality and more bone-deep weariness. Green eyes were heavy beneath silver lashes...head tilting somewhat to the side as he apparently dozed off before catching himself. Genesis was accosted with a feeling of terrible guilt, of sympathy, because the younger man might have been fast asleep by now if he hadn’t felt the need to get so damnably furious. He didn’t feel that his actions were unjustified, but he probably could have waited. Further, his companion’s scars had faded...until they were but hairline, whiplash lines crisscrossing the visible portions of his skin.

The hysterical, fantastical idea of just staying there...right there...side by side...crossed the Commander’s mind. Because at least there no one was getting hurt or tortured. If time would suspend itself here and now, maybe it would be enough. At least they could exist in this state of inertia; without fighting, without wondering if today was going to be their last day together...without wishing for something that they might possibly never have. It would be easier to simply exist in this existential uncertainty, this brief moment of soundless resignation rather than press forward. At the same time, Genesis acknowledged that this was a foolish vein of rumination, and that it could never be.

“I’m not angry with you.” Sephiroth murmured, his voice cutting the silence between them so suddenly that the blue-eyed soldier jumped. “I’m angry at myself.” The body a few feet away shuddered. “I should _never_ have touched you like that. I became exactly what I swore I’d never be when I left the labs. It’s inexcusable.”

The urge to tell the younger man to stop beating himself over their heated exchange was overwhelming; or at least to remind the brilliant individual sitting by his side that he’d promised them not to overthink. But Genesis dismissed these thoughts, because as true as they might have been in their factuality, they didn’t address the matter at hand.

“You shouldn’t be.” The Commander offered. “I should have waited both for my anger to calm and for your wounds to heal.” Sighing, he let his head drop. “I forced this on you, I provoked you like that night at Banora...” A shudder ran down his spine. “I hurt you just the way I was afraid of… I-...” His right hand balled into a fist at his side, because saying I’m sorry wasn’t going to make anything better. It was the easiest way out. Saying I’m sorry didn’t take back the words he had uttered, and really… what was there to apologize for? He had acted upon a desire to protect his lover, in the most irrational way possible, perhaps, and he’d tried to make him see things from his viewpoint; only to make a mess out of everything. Both of them had forgone reason, and it’d got them here. “I’m fine… I’m not made of glass.” Defeated, Genesis said at length, and physically it was true. Emotionally… He needed to build from ground up; his very foundations were up in the wind. But _that_ was a matter for another day. Right now, his only focus was the silver-haired individual.

The blue-eyed First had to fight off the desire to stand up, to sit in front of his companion, to take those hands between his as they talked this out, to look upon those emerald eyes so that look of enmity burned into his retinas might fade away. But he didn’t, couldn’t. Remembering their encounter in solitary after what seemed an eternity ago, the redhead was pretty sure the very sight of him would be enough to cause the younger man pain. They’d both had their fair share of suffering today. Enough was enough.

So it came as somewhat of a surprise when Sephiroth uncurled; a sinuous tangle of arms and legs that seemed almost unearthly in their fluidity. Standing, he kept his gaze trained on the far wall, his posture hesitant. Then, as if coming to a sudden decision, the silver-haired First turned to look at Genesis. The man in question struggled to keep his focus forward-facing, unsure if eye contact might shatter the younger man's sudden confidence. Stepping forward, the General fully faced him; pausing but a moment before sinking down cross-legged about a foot away. Now the redhead was forced to look at him, though he let his gaze settle on the slope of a graceful neck instead of those deep emerald eyes. He didn't know what exactly Sephiroth was doing, and he wasn't sure if his companion was entirely ready for reconciliation yet.

It came as somewhat of a relief when his fellow First merely remained where he was; sitting cross-legged and looking at him contemplatively. Genesis watched out of the corner of his eye as pale slender fingers briefly toyed with the charm on his wrist before apparently thinking better of it. The scarlet-haired soldier felt a pang of anguish at the sight of it. He supposed that it should reassure him, the fact that Sephiroth was still wearing it, but it didn't. Instead, it reminded him of what was supposed to be something happy turning into something _terrible._ And Genesis wished there was some way he could turn back time...wished he could go and yell at their past selves and tell them not to go back to HQ, but that was wishful thinking.

“I love you.” Sephiroth said calmly. _This_ forced the redhead to meet his eyes, though the older man's expression was incredulous instead of tranquil. He wanted to slap the silver-haired soldier for looking understanding. “I know you only said what you did because you care, and I only tolerate Hojo to such a degree because I care.” The General sighed and looked away. “Maybe we should stop getting so angry at each other for _caring.”_ There was a hint of exhausted amusement in his voice by the time he'd finished. A silver brow was arched as that beryl gaze returned, an arm extending to hover, palm up and supplicative between them. “Hmm?”

It was Genesis’ turn to try and disappear into the wall, because the silver-haired man couldn’t, shouldn’t do this to him. The redhead wanted to protest, but he couldn’t bring himself to reject the hand that was being offered to him. It pained him physically, mentally, to reach forward, albeit tentatively to let his fingertips brush the calloused skin of the younger man’s palm. The words he was about to utter felt like shards against his tongue, and for a moment the Commander wished he would choke on them, for the void inside him to suddenly swallow him whole so he’d simply be no more. “I’ve yet to wrap my head around what you said… but…” He paused, looking at the ground. “And I _hate_ to use _these words_ … I _do_ …” He pushed through gritted teeth, his voice shaking with the amount of emotions he was trying to suppress, lest they’d drown them. “You’re Shinra’s greatest asset… and I believe in you, believe in you like I’ve believed in no other, but together, you, me and Angeal… we’re infallible.” Azure irises looked up, pleading silently. “ _You_ shouldn’t acquiesce to torture, to have them give you what are your _rights_.” His long fingers curled around the strong hand, firmly, encouragingly. “We have your back. SOLDIER has your back. One word, and Shinra has to bow down at your feet.” The older man wished his companion could see what he was seeing in his mind’s eye, because the mere thought of a free Sephiroth was glorious; it was like some precious gem refracting and reflecting a flimsy gleam of hope inside him, brightening up nooks and crannies in him that even he didn’t know existed.

“And what of the men?” Sephiroth pressed, grasping his fingers but not making any further forward motion in terms of affectionate touch. “My men, your men, Angeal's men? Do you think walking away is that simple? That it’s simply a question of being ‘unbeatable?’ Could you really leave the troops you've nurtured and trained here for the sake of me?” When Genesis opened his mouth to say _yes_ the General shook his head. “Maybe at first...maybe you could live with it for a year or two...but our men follow blindly. They don't know what Shinra really is. They would die fighting us to defend it. Maybe you could conscience that for a little while, but Angeal certainly couldn't...it would destroy him.” Green eyes searched his face. “I couldn’t do it.” He said flatly. “Not knowing what I was leaving them to, to the knowledge that someone could take my place...could ultimately become the replacement for my suffering.” He tilted his head. “And what of the people? The public? If we razed Shinra to the ground the economy would collapse, people would starve.” Sephiroth exhaled and appeared to want to lean forward, to touch him...but he held back. “Genesis, I love that you love me enough to do this. But surely you know it’s more complicated than that.”

Genesis shook his head. “It doesn’t have to be.” What the silver-haired man was telling him was true, but it didn’t have to be that way. “Men would follow you; follow me, follow ‘Geal. Not all of them, no. And definitely not the infantry.” Crossing his legs, the scarlet-haired soldier leaned forward a little; there was really nothing behind it, just the desire to make his partner understand. He didn’t want to think about how he had almost flinched inwardly at the thought of Sephiroth wanting to touch him… Anything beyond the single point of contact, where the Commander was now holding onto with both hands, seemed like too much at the moment… “We don’t have to raze Shinra, we can make them _understand_ that what they have they owe it to _us_.” A small smile tugged on his lips, as he tightened his hold just a little; cerulean lakes swirling with adoration as he whispered. “The world is yours. _Just take it._ ”

The younger man’s face contorted; the hand in his withdrew slightly...trembling somewhat before setting again. It was with profound confusion that the redhead watched the silver-haired man’s expression shift into one of subtle but profound sadness. His face didn’t crumple like someone else’s likely would have, but the way those emerald eyes seemed to dull...silver brows drawing together somewhat...it was telling. And Genesis couldn’t fathom the reason _why._ Didn’t Sephiroth _want_ the world?? Didn’t he want to be able to be free? To take what he wanted without worrying about who might stab him in the back?

“Genesis.” Sephiroth said, so quietly the older man could hardly hear him. “I don't _want_ the world.” The man in question scoffed. If possible, the silver-haired man looked even more wounded. “I want to do the right thing for everyone involved.” He looked away. “No one _owes_ me anything, I don't want anything from Shinra. The only thing I want in this world is you, but I want you in a way that is honorable. I won't have my path to something permanent with you wrought in bloodshed, that's all I've known.” The green-eyed soldier closed his eyes. “And I _know_ that me bleeding all over the floor isn't exactly a _lack of bloodshed_. But at least no one is bleeding for me.” The General laughed, but it was a pained laugh...borne from incredulity and exhaustion. “I thought...I thought at _least_ you would understand that.”

Hearing those words should have made him feel like the luckiest person alive; they should have made him feel like he was on top of the world, to be the only thing Sephiroth desired, wanted. It might have made him feel exactly that way maybe a month ago. But the context it was spoken in, the last words the silver-haired man had uttered… It was a slap in his face. And Genesis retrieved his hands, drew back but he was still a few inches away from the wall… He needed it because the redhead knew he couldn’t disappear; he needed to fall back onto something, because this, their situation very much felt like…

The very air he was breathing smelled of smoke and tar, of destruction. And it was with a sense of foreboding that he opened his mouth, his voice just as low as the younger man had spoken his name. “What if I want them… _him_ to? To pay in their blood what they took from you?” The Commander paused for a moment, and the silence was too oppressive. “What if I want for the world to be yours? You will not take it?”

In that moment, the scarlet-haired First prayed to any deity listening to him, for Sephiroth to say yes, to say yes… because he didn’t know what to do if…

“Tell me one thing.” Sephiroth said in a low voice. “If I someday _‘take this world’_ as you say...will you follow me?” Genesis’ eyes snapped open and he gazed at the man before him in confusion. The General’s expression had taken on a strange affectation...something entirely unreadable. When he spoke again, his tone sent chills down the back of his spine. “If I raze this world to ruin...along the pathetic beings within in it...will you serve me?” When the redhead opened his mouth to speak, the silver-haired soldier grinned. Only it wasn’t a grin...not really...it was too hungry, too predatory. He leaned forward, suddenly all-encompassing in a space that was far too small between them, silver swung from powerful shoulders...dragging across the carpet until it was nearly spilling into Genesis’ lap. “Will you still _love_ me?” He was far too close at this point...as the Commander attempted to ease his way into the plaster behind him, the green-eyed First pressed onward...until they were but inches apart. “And if you love me,” He murmured, his breath unduly hot over the older man’s forehead. “Will you _bow_ before me?”

A frown had settled over auburn eyebrows as the scarlet-haired soldier studied the man before him, the man who shared every aspect of his lover’s physicality, his voice, those breathtaking features, the same aura of raw power, and yet, he wasn’t him. It felt like Sephiroth had left him alone with this stranger in his wrecked bedroom and gone far far away… Because this man was using the same voice that had whispered only moments ago that he wanted him, and him only from the whole of Gaia; the one who’d told him that they were equals… only now to tell him to bow before him, to bow before him as a sign of his love.

His heart felt like it was exploding and being ripped to shreds at the same time. Because Genesis wanted to say yes. He wanted to say yes, over and over and over; terribly so. But at the expense of himself? To reduce himself to a hollow husk of who he was…? _No._ Sephiroth wouldn’t want something like that. Neither of them did; to have the other bend themselves out of shape just because they loved each other. It would be an insult to both of them. A violation of their relationship as it had been…

Why did this feel like the end?

His cerise lips were trembling as the redhead tentatively raised his hand. A lonely crystalline droplet rolled down his cheek when the familiar texture of that smooth skin, the welcoming warmth of his lover’s face met his thumb as it brushed those high cheekbones he’d reverently kissed a million times. “Yes.” And his heart bled an ugly black thing that rushed up his throat like poison, making him choke on his words. “But I bow before _no one_.”

For a moment, it seemed as if Sephiroth might fly into a rage again, that he would throw him across the room and _really_ finish him off. Then, something in those viridian eyes flickered...some type of primal understanding that appeared to acquiesce to the older man’s statement. A hand came up to take the hand touching his cheek, the gesture once-again feather light as those beautiful lips curled into a soft smile. The green-eyed First made a sound that was wholly unfamiliar to Genesis...something along the edges of a sigh, his head tilting to lean into the touch; platinum-framed lids growing heavy as his mouth parted somewhat.

“Very well.” He murmured. “The rest of the world can bow before us.” The General’s free hand rose to slide over the Commander’s hip. That head of silver hair descended until cheek was pressed against cheek. It was a familiar gesture and yet somehow unfamiliar, because he wasn’t _familiar_ with this version of Sephiroth. It was wholly unlike him...and yet he somehow felt more real than anything else he’d presented to him before. “Together then.” He whispered. Pulling back, the younger man’s gaze flicked ravenously to his lips before looking elsewhere...into Genesis’ eyes. “Together we’ll-”

The platinum-haired soldier paused, his eyes grew unfocused and he grew lax again. Genesis had but a moment before Sephiroth swayed dangerously, slumping forward somewhat before jerking upright and crawling backwards…staring at the redhead in that familiar...self-loathing way. Now...the blue-eyed First wasn’t sure if the younger man hadn’t done it on purpose; what if _that_ was the General he’d known this whole time and been entirely oblivious to it? …The mere thought was disturbing. The man in question didn’t say anything this time...preferring to sit where he was and shiver...seemingly without any extreme external stimuli.

Genesis wasn’t really counting the minutes for the entirety of the time they were sitting there in silence, staring at each other in a seemingly never-ending battle of wills; but no, that wasn’t the right term. The redhead was more of an onlooker, a witness, watching from the sidelines as the silver-haired General warred with himself. And the older man’s head was reeling with the events that had befallen them one after another from the very first moment they had set foot back in the HQ. His emotions weren’t better off either. The Commander was truly exhausted and drained… He realized only just now, that there was a war raging inside him as well; the overwhelming need to reach out, ask for comfort from the individual before him and give back in return, pitted against the fear of getting burnt if they were to touch one another.

In the end, it wasn’t much of a choice, and more of a necessity that drove him. The thought that it was probably their second day of going AWOL-if Administration hadn’t already suspended or discharged them-passed through his mind before being pushed to the very far background; along with the fact that his stipend was going to suffer for the havoc he had wrought upon Hojo’s lab. Genesis couldn’t bring himself to care to get rid of his sullied clothes as he reached down and took a pale wrist in his hand, and there really was no need for persuading or anything for the younger man to follow him to the bed.

Lying on their sides and facing each other, the scarlet-haired First nestled his head under the crook of Sephiroth’s neck, minutely grateful that the wrecked wall by the side of the bed was obscured from where he was pressing himself into the warmth of the General’s body. The sense of loss seemed the most prominent feeling in the foreground of his thoughts, and he couldn’t stifle the strangled sound that escaped his lips only to get muffled by the cotton of his companion’s shirt.

Inside him, it was like a dam was broken, but thankfully, or unfortunately, the scarlet-haired man wasn’t consciously present anymore…

Inside him, Genesis Rhapsodos wanted to scream.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we're introducing to you column-POV (well, that's what we call it) which details the other side of the story while everything is happening in the present, in contrast to repeating it all in another chapter which might be kind of repetitive. We both hope that the amount of stuff happening at the same time isn't confusing, and that you enjoy reading this as much as we enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> P.S. Just a little help with the section that contains both POVs at the same time; try reading one or two paragraphs from Sephiroth's point of view before jumping over to Genesis', and vice versa. Hopefully, it'd be easy to get a hang of as the story progresses.

Sephiroth was going crazy.

Sitting on a secluded balcony on the West side of HQ overlooking Midgar, the General came to the concrete conclusion that he was losing his mind. Curled on a hard, unforgiving steel chair with his knees drawn up to his chest, the silver-haired man narrowed his eyes and tried to drown out the noise of the office behind him. Next to him, his lunch sat untouched. He’d meant to bring it out and eat it where he could see the sun, but there was none whatsoever on that particular day. Instead, the skies above him were steely grey and unforgiving...as if cognizant of the slow degradation of his mental faculties. He’d meant to finish up the report he was compiling for Lazard….meant to train in the VR room...meant to call Angeal and talk to him...meant to try to apologize to Genesis again…meant to try to make things right between them.

He couldn’t.

Trying to concentrate, the green-eyed soldier grasped the leather fabric of his uniform over his right bicep. It didn’t help. The night after his argument with the Commander he’d woken up to an empty bed. And it had been empty ever since. He hadn’t seen the scarlet-haired First in private after that, and he didn’t feel like he had the right to push for it. They weren’t virulently fighting as they had before they’d begun their relationship...instead it was the opposite. There was a sense of absence, an _aching_ absence but an absence nonetheless. In some ways, it was worse than arguing because it signaled the fact that he’d crossed a line he’d never be able to step back from. That in of itself was terrifying; it shook him in a way that nothing else had. Because the silence left him alone with his mind, and his mind was quickly becoming a very dark place.

Sephiroth didn’t know what had come over him in those hours after Hojo had done all he wanted to him; after he’d left him broken and bleeding and poorly recovered so his frightened partner could drag him back to his quarters and nurse him back to health. He only knew that the sense of despair he’d felt at seeming weak, and feeling blindly helpless and reliant on someone who shouldn’t have to shoulder such a burden was crippling. It had woken an anger in him he didn’t know was there...a sense of ravenous desire for carnage and conquest. So when he’d told Genesis to _‘bow before him’_ it felt like the words that were coming out of his mouth belonged to someone else...someone who was tired of being a pawn...tired of hiding who he was behind obedience and regulatory rules and torture. Someone who was far more bloodthirsty than the rotund, profusely sweaty and rich individual sitting in his office at the top of HQ.

He was able to suppress that desire, to think of it logistically instead of impulsively. Victims of torture often developed averse psychiatric manifestations as a result of manipulation and confinement. Most of the time the perpetrators of such abuse weren’t aware of what they were creating. He’d seen it in the field...in the other subjects Hojo took a fancy to; the ones who couldn't restrain that desire for slaughter once they reached their breaking point. Sephiroth was desperately afraid of that part of himself...that unfettered and murderous part that didn’t care about human life...that considered himself apart from it. The silver-haired First acknowledged that this particular figment of his psyche was broken...irreparably broken and that nothing good would come from acquiescing to its desires.

That didn’t make it any quieter...or any less insatiate.

Something...was wrong. Something was wrong inside him and the longer he pushed it to the side the more massive it became. The rift between he and Genesis was tearing him open and presenting himself with a creature he didn’t know. A creature that wanted to destroy everything and anything in its path. He couldn’t _glance_ at his secretary anymore without thinking about how nice she’d look with her head mounted on his office wall instead of chattering incessantly into her phone. He was accosted with violent, virulent desires that took every modicum of his will to suppress. Sephiroth had always prided himself in his control, in his ability to compartmentalize. It was becoming harder and harder to compartmentalize this...to shove it down and swallow it and pretend it wasn’t there. What _‘it’_ was he didn’t know, only that every day it seemed to unravel him further.

Logically, he could go to Hojo about it.

That being said, something in him told him that was a _terrible_ idea. Not only because Genesis would disapprove, but because he was very likely to never emerge from the labs again. He was suffering from some type of psychiatric break, and while many soldiers suffered from such affectations, he didn’t think any of them were quite so homicidal. If Administration got wind that he was having genocidal thoughts they would put him down like a dog. Sephiroth wasn’t afraid of death, but he _was_ afraid of potentially leaving this world without having made peace with the man he loved. Every day it was looking more and more like that wouldn’t happen, and every day he descended further and further into madness.

Waking from dreams of desecration and death only to be deliriously happy was something new to him. Some small part of him acknowledged that he _liked it._ The logical part of him abhorred whatever it was that was growing inside of him. Thankfully, he hadn’t harbored any particularly violent thoughts towards Genesis or Angeal...which he supposed should bring him some sort of relief...but it didn’t. Instead, he dreaded the day when those thoughts would surface; when he’d wake from unconscious thoughts of running Masamune through his only friends in the world and be grinning from ear to ear. Sephiroth dreaded it to the point that he’d considered throwing himself off the landing pad at the top of HQ...just to spare them...to spare two people who had bothered to show him kindness and love. Suicide was a coward’s way out, however...or so he told himself. In truth, his sense of self-preservation was simply too strong to overcome.

“Hey.”

Sephiroth blinked, raised his head and looked confusedly at the man standing before him. Angeal’s face was sympathetic, if a little bit cautious as he slid into the chair across from him; unstrapping his sword and settling it lovingly between his knees. Once this was done, the dark-haired First leaned back and refocused on him...those blue eyes that were so similar to Genesis’ far too shrewd for the younger man’s liking.

“Angeal.” He replied, his voice gravelly from disuse. Straightening, the General pushed his hair back from his eyes and considered his now-cold lunch before giving it up for a lost cause.

“Are you okay?”

The silver-haired soldier paused, considered the question presented to him. Realistically, he couldn’t tell Genesis’ childhood friend the truth. Confessing to homicidal and suicidal thoughts wouldn’t get them anywhere, and Angeal was likely to collapse into a puddle of worry. The older man was already distraught enough about the rift between his two friends. He hadn’t said as much...but Sephiroth could see it in his eyes. After every Administrative meeting... _during_ meetings his gaze would flicker between the two of them, and the amount of strain on that normally placid face made his heart feel hollower than it already was. No, he couldn’t do that to Angeal...couldn’t force him to worry more than he already did. However, he also couldn’t avoid the truth entirely...because he’d never behaved this way before.... He was isolated and withdrawn by nature, but he wasn’t remiss in his duties. Lately, Sephiroth had been less than productive, and that wasn’t like him at all.

“I’m surviving” he said flatly.

This was mostly true. Because that’s all he was doing. _Surviving._ Mutating. Becoming something he abhorred and desired at the same time. Staying up until ridiculous hours to avoid what his dreams would bring him, avoiding parts of HQ because he’d spent too much time with Genesis there. Avoiding anything besides training and basic necessities because he didn’t want to face himself. Face the fact that being a SOLDIER was less of who he was and more of what he was forced to be. Because the truth of his existence was becoming wildly altered by this dark, insidious change of mentality triggered by something he couldn’t really name...maybe it had always been there...buried deep down.

“That’s not reassuring” Angeal said slowly. “Is this because of whatever’s going on between you and Genesis?”

Sephiroth didn’t know how to answer that. Not because it was a wholly difficult question, but because he didn’t know the answer himself. He missed Genesis...but he was also missing the rational part of himself that didn’t consider people dispensable and worthless creatures. It was strange to be disturbed by himself; he wasn’t entirely sure how long he could handle it.

“Partly.” He replied, tight-lipped. “Has he said anything?”

The dark-haired First’s eyes tightened, concern crossing his features. The reasoning behind it was clear without having to ask for it. Sephiroth _never_ asked for feedback, for hints or advice; it was wholly unlike him.

“No.” The Commander’s childhood friend replied. “He’s not talking to me either. I asked him to give me some space, but I didn’t mean it to this great a magnitude.” He fell silent and the younger man didn’t push him further, preferring to stand and throw his lunch away in an exterior trash bin. “Why don’t we all get together?” Angeal said after a time. “I can invite him to the VR room and maybe we can...talk it out. Obviously we all need to get some things out in the open. I’m not saying you need to bare your romantic souls in front of me, but sometimes just...establishing your parameters as comrades is helpful.”

He considered it.

Rationally, he was aware of the fact that this was as likely to end in them trying to kill each other than talk to each other...but maybe that would help. Maybe they needed to get everything out of their systems before they could move forward. At this point, Sephiroth would be glad to have Genesis _fighting_ him instead of simply acting like he barely existed. It was painful to a point he couldn’t quite describe. Looking mulishly at his fellow First, he also mentally admitted that perhaps this would take his mind off potentially psychopathic thoughts and urges. Because he was _sick_ and tired of being caught in his own brain. He hated the feeling of not being in control of himself. It was a terrible feeling.

“You should tell him I’ll be there.” He murmured, watching as the dark-haired First’s eyes brightened at his acquiescence. Angeal hastened to stand, returning the Buster Sword to its rightful place. “Better that he knows what he’s walking into, I’ve found.”

Again, sapphire eyes observed him...and again he got the niggling feeling that the older man was far more observant than was really necessary.

“I just want you to know that if you need to talk to someone, I’m always available.” Angeal said calmly as they moved towards the doors. “I know I’m not Genesis, but I still care.”

It took every facet of his being not to respond irritably. Not because he didn’t appreciate it, but because of his automatic ingrained desire to fend for himself.

“Thank you.” He deadpanned.

As they walked through Accounting, Sephiroth acknowledged that his instinctive desire for independence was much stronger than it had been before. In some ways, he wished that there was _one decent doctor_ he could talk to in HQ. It might have helped him, he was desperate enough at this point that he’d have thrown himself at a psychologist’s feet and begged them to fix his brain. He knew better than to entertain such fantasies. If he sought psychiatric help Hojo would descend on him, and that would be the end. Palming the button to the elevator, he stood back and worried his lip...quelling the black irritation that rose up at the sight of a random executive who gave him an entirely-too-greasy smile. His brain flashed through several homicidal scenarios before he could stop it, and Angeal gave him a strange look as he gripped Masamune’s hilt perhaps a bit tighter than was necessary...until the leather of his gloves creaked under his palm.

Genesis wasn’t in the VR room when they arrived, but his childhood friend assured the General he was on his way. All of them had been swamped with paperwork yet again, and their ability to take time off for leisure activities was increasingly hobbled. While they waited, they decided on the Sister Ray. Picturesque but sturdy and reliable, it was one they had used before...sometimes more than once in succession. Angeal stepped forward to configure the specs while they waited for their comrade. The silver-haired soldier hung back in a sort of tension filled anticipation. They spoke idly but not personally, both of them too wrapped up in their own thoughts to attempt any sort of qualitative conversation. When the door to the VR room signalled the ingress of the redheaded First, Sephiroth turned away, unwilling to let his...former?...partner see the amount of anxiety he was experiencing.

“Thanks for coming Gen.” Angeal said placidly, punching the button to activate the simulation and stepping back as digitized code slowly built the scene. “I hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience.”

Sephiroth could hear the familiar flutter and creak of a red leather coat as the older First moved behind him; wondering, albeit briefly, if this had been a good idea.

“It was no inconvenience at all.” The General knew without seeing that those lips were curled into a smirk, before the melodious voice continued. “I’ve been given a new materia that I’ve been _dying_ to try.”

It seemed that, like always, Genesis wasn’t going to make things any easier. The probability of the VR room not being usable for the next couple of months was escalating by the minute. Especially when the said redhead walked passed him just as Sephiroth had almost relented to the urge to look over a black-clad shoulder at his fiery second-in-command. For an infinitesimal moment cerulean met veridian; and the fact that it didn’t make him feel anything was heart wrenching. Both of them were hiding behind their masks now, as they had been before everything had begun on that fateful day in some dilapidated hotel room below the plate. The silver-haired man was struck by the sudden want to see how far that cold indifference ran; to see if he could still make Genesis’ blood boil and sing, if not with pleasure, but with rage.

Because once upon a time, what seemed like an eternity ago, Sephiroth had realized that getting a straight answer out of those sanguine lips was nigh impossible. He had realized that if he could still inspire anger in the Commander, it meant that his fellow First still cared; still cared about him.

And then, the moment was gone as though it had never been.

Genesis turned to look straight ahead, throwing flatly over his shoulder. “Let’s get this over with.”

Angeal was looking between them with an increasingly apprehensive expression. Mako-blue eyes were furrowed with concern and a sort of weary resignation. For a moment, the silver-haired soldier felt a pang of guilt...because this was _not_ what he wanted. He’d sworn not long ago that he was going to leave this competitive spirit between them behind...because it never got them anywhere. That being said, it seemed like the only thing he was going to get...and while he wasn’t going to be the one to initiate it...he would take it. The fact that he didn’t want to take this was irrelevant, it was all he had. Moving forward, Sephiroth walked to the edge of the cannon...taking in the view before them.

“I ran into Sephiroth in Accounting and we were discussing that we all seem to have miscommunicated issues we’d like to resolve.” The dark-haired First said cautiously, leaning against an available virtual ledge. “I’ll start. Genesis, when I said I wanted space, it wasn’t that I wanted to avoid speaking with you entirely. I just needed a day to think about what I wanted to do in terms of accepting your...relationship and the consequences thereof. I support the two of you wholeheartedly.”

“Thank you.” Sephiroth said coldly. “But it seems your support is unneeded.”

Genesis scoffed even as Angeal sighed exasperatedly.

“See? This is what I’m talking about.” The owner of the Buster Sword snapped. “You’re just...running with what I’m saying.” There was the shift of fabric as he apparently resituated himself. “Besides, I was talking to Genesis, not you; though since you are involved in the relationship I suppose my apology should extend to you as well. But ultimately, I accept this.”

There was silence and Sephiroth bitterly reflected that perhaps this wasn’t a good idea after all. This was just making him angrier. Turning, he caught Angeal eyeing him expectantly and he sighed inwardly.

“I’m sorry.” He said, looking directly at Genesis, who refused to return his gesture. “I don’t know if it does any good, and honestly...I don’t know where I’m going to be in the next few weeks. But for what it’s worth, I regret my actions, and I regret not communicating with you or telling you what to expect beforehand.” When the redhead didn’t respond he raised an eyebrow at his childhood friend. “This is what I meant when I said your support was unfounded.” He deadpanned. “It’s been this way for two weeks. We are, as far as I’m concerned, not involved anymore.”

It was a crude statement. Assumed, assuredly, but he was tired of trying to figure out what Genesis wanted, and he suspected the redhead was equally tired of trying to ‘save’ him. If he had to give him a way out in order to stop it...that’s what he intended to do.

Fury flashed in those lively blue irises, though nothing about the Commander’s face changed. Sephiroth thought he caught a slight downturn of those lips before the visage in front of him was obscured by the fringe of auburn tresses that shimmered with a coppery halo under the bright Junon sun. His second-in-command pulled himself up over a metal ledge, crimson-clad fingers reaching inside his coat, and the silver-haired man didn’t need to look to know what it was. Turning around, the General gazed at the vast expanse of the ocean expanding below them, going on and on until it reached the horizon.

Pale lips pressed into a tight line as the notion fleeted through his brain that the scene greeting his emerald eyes was all blue. It was cruel and ironic at the same time. His grip tightened somewhat around Masamune’s hilt. Blue as far as eyes could see. Cerulean. Sapphire. _Azure._ The color of Genesis’ eyes.

“My friend, the fates are cruel. There are no dreams, no honor remains… The arrow has left, the bow of the Goddess. My _soul_ corrupted by vengeance; hath endured torment to find the end of the journey… In my own salvation, and your, _eternal_ slumber.”

Against his will, Sephiroth felt his lips curl upwards in the smallest of smiles. Those words brought an ache to his chest that was bittersweet...like the sting of a final kiss before irrefutable departure. Turning, he kept the expression...letting his eyes linger on the scarlet-haired soldier who had spoken them before opening his mouth.

“ _Loveless_ Act Four.” He murmured.

The book shut with a snap.

For a moment, the briefest hint of tenderness flashed across Genesis features before he ducked his head and chuckled bitterly.

“You remembered.”

“How can I not?” He said coldly. “When you’ve _beaten_ it into my head?”

Angeal seemed to be desperately trying to corral a situation that was quickly falling out of his control. Looking between the two men, he appeared to resign himself to inevitability. To the sincere surprise of both of them, he drew a practice sword out of his belt and held it between them. Raising an onyx brow, the raven-haired First tilted his head.

“It seems we’re going to have to do this unconventionally.” He said flatly. Lowering his weapon, Angeal glared at the two of them. “Fine. We spar. All of us. _Then_ we’ll talk. And if we don’t _all_ talk, we walk out of this room separately, because if you’re going to throw each other away, friendship or otherwise...I’m not going to be a part of the aftermath...for either of you.” Genesis’ childhood friend retreated to stand next to the aforementioned redhead, who had stood while he was speaking, dropping into the ‘guard’ position. Sephiroth ‘hmph’ed’ and slid Masamune out of its sheath; bringing it abruptly downwards to signal the beginning of the spar as he did so. “Don’t take Sephiroth lightly.” Angeal was hissing. “Something’s wrong-”

 _“-Noted”_ Genesis sniffed before leaping forward, the dark-haired First hastening to follow his lead.

It was laughably easy.

Initially, in any case. Because Genesis and Angeal had a combined fighting style that was simple to memorize and anticipate. If he were any other individual, Sephiroth would have folded...without question. The choreography of their attacks was nearly seamless, but he’d been around them long enough that he knew what to expect. The silver-haired man was cognizant of parrying left before twisting to parry right; of dancing back in order to avoid a leapfrog-like rotation that involved one quickly following over the other in midair. Realistically, he could have stayed still and managed to block everything, but he liked to challenge himself on occasion. A deep sense of satisfaction coiled deep in his gut as he blocked yet another blow from the redheaded Commander, smirking as the man’s expression grew ever-darker.

**Sephiroth**

| 

**Genesis**  
  
---|---  
  

_“Ashayam_ indeed.” He purred as that onyx tide of incoherency rose up to grip him by the throat. Knocking two blades away in unison, he leapt back and settled back into the ‘guard’ position. “I wonder, did you mean any of it?” Angeal was giving him an alarmed and concerned look as he appeared to falter. Sephiroth ignored it. “Or was this all just a PR stunt?”

It was a low blow, he knew it. Even as he watched those sapphire eyes widen...even as Genesis declared that he would take the General alone, the younger man knew it was a filthy thing to say. He didn’t really know if he believed it….there was a part of him that _wanted_ to believe it, because otherwise he’d said such things for nothing. As Angeal’s eyes widened in concern and protest, Sephiroth acknowledged that at the same time he _didn’t_ want to believe it, because then he was truly alone. Watching as the redhead disregarded his childhood friend to lunge for him with a look of utter vitriol, he let that whimsical, hopeful part of him gasp, choke and die. Because there was no trace of love on that familiar face. When the Commander quoted that same...aching phrase from their fight what seemed like eons ago, he almost collapsed with how much it hurt.

_‘That resignation of yours…how long do you think you can keep it up?’_

“At this point,” Sephiroth snarled, ignoring the shattering of his own heart as he parried the redhead’s blows. “Forever.” He let Masamune arc wide...knowing the older man could block it. “Until this planet withers and dies.”

The smirk that bloomed over those cerise lips was anything but friendly as their blades momentarily locked again. Genesis began a series of fast, dextrous offensive strikes...nearly throwing him off balance before the silver-haired man regained himself, his breath hissing through his teeth as he did so. Holding Masamune in a hanging right, he parried the next blow before shoving forwards, knocking the Commander backwards in a sea of yellow sparks before executing a swift follow-through that forced the redhead to block him...legs spread wide against the hollow iron convex of the cannon. An upward swipe and the blue-eyed soldier was airborne, rising swiftly and steadily as he lunged to follow.

“You’re really trying to kill me.” Sephiroth mused, beginning a combination of offensive hits that were much like the older man’s previous ones. A hard downward blow and the scarlet-haired First was below him, his face a mask of concentration. “ _I_ wonder if you can really do it..if you can live with yourself if you do it.”

And he hoped he’d do it.

Because this pain, this mental pain...was too much for him to broker every day. At the same time...the dark passenger in him refused to surrender. Whether Genesis could live with it or not was irrelevant, wouldn’t matter to him in the long run...or so he told himself... _tried_ to tell himself. It would be easier to let go, to relinquish rage in favor of defeat. Because if these thoughts wouldn’t stop, and if he didn’t have him...what else was there? Even as those long, red-leather clad fingers filled with fire he only wanted them to touch him...to _comfort_ him as they once had.

He knew it was a fool’s dream.

As pinpoints of seemingly sentient flame created a glowing, firework-esque halo around him, Sephiroth resigned himself to combat, to habituality. It didn't surprise him when they gathered at a red-handed gesture only to converge upon him in a ball of conflagration. It confused him a little bit...because he was _fairly_ sure Genesis knew that elemental magic didn't work on him. Through the blazing inferno surrounding him, the silver-haired soldier watched as his fellow First readied another attack, one that definitely _would_ incapacitate him.

The scarlet-haired man’s face was wrought in a smile filled with dark purpose and the younger man prepared himself for the impact...for the pain. He could allow this...because nothing else was going to take this away. And maybe once he was flat on his back on top of the cannon Genesis would still be incensed enough to run him through. That murderous, ravenous, newly-born part of him fought valiantly to pull him back...but he ignored it; acquiesced instead to the inevitability of fate...to peace..

...And then Angeal intervened.

Sephiroth nearly went for him himself when the dark-haired First came between them. Sequestered in his fiery cage, he could only watch as Genesis’ childhood friend went flying like a ragdoll over the side of the massive weapon they were sparring on. Rage built in his chest, but it was muted and dulled by his anguish. Even as he sent flame and fire exploding outwards in order to hurtle towards the perpetrator of Angeal's plight, the green-eyed First acknowledged that his only goal was to get to where they had been before the most logical of the three of them intervened, to that point of no return.

Sapphire eyes widened in shock and what he thought was a shadow of fear as he pressed forward like a hurricane of leather and steel, Masamune singing a song of lethal purpose as it screamed its ingress across steel and iron. Genesis hastened to cut the wide arcs of physical light that hurtled his way, dropping back to the surface of the Sister Ray as he did so. Part of the nozzle collapsed and the General sank with it, keeping his gaze trained on his adversary until he was but inches out of sight... descending into nothingness.

Then-abruptly-he launched himself upwards and through; cutting loops of metal off the massive weapon like slices of bread as he closed the gap between them even as the older man tried to widen it. Metal groaned and screeched with his advance, like the slow crumble of a tinfoil giant. These were accompanied by a chorus of minor explosions as electrical and mechanical components caved and buckled; geysers of water exploding skyward as massive segments of machinery hit the waves and plunged downwards. Masamune scored a red-hot glowing arc in the steel underfoot before their blades met again...faster and the blood in his veins seemed to sing with existential purpose. Not to kill...never to kill..

No, even as Genesis went flying backwards to skid several dozen feet only to land on his toes, Sephiroth acknowledged that he did not want to kill him. He wanted to _force_ him to see this, to see what he was and what he might become if someone didn't stop him. Crossed blades and desperate parries and he hung back to watch as Rapier was activated again-hastily-only to be thrown up to meet Masamune sideways...to force the ground beneath them to buckle as a bluish shockwave was thrown out as their weapons connected.

“What are you waiting for” Sephiroth hissed, his face illuminated by the light surrounding them. “ _Kill me._ ” When Genesis’ face took on an expression of enraged incredulity he felt his crumble somewhat into despair before he forced into neutrality again. “I can't live like this.” he snarled. “My head is-! I’m constantly angry, violent, _dangerous-_ ” He drove forward again. “ _Do it!!_ ” Sephiroth threw the scarlet-haired man back when he hesitated beneath him, nearly spitting with rage at his own pathetic failure at _executing himself._ “Coward!”

He didn’t have the emphatic cognizance left to acknowledge the injury that his words caused. The green-eyed soldier only knew one thing; that whatever he said, no matter how hard he pushed, it wasn’t going to work.

Genesis was not going to kill him.

Because for all his faults and for all their fights, Genesis was still a soldier, and due to that singular fact...he still had honor. Sephiroth was vaguely disgusted with himself for not recognizing such a fact before, but acknowledging it now didn’t bring him any reassurance. As the silver-haired First lunged once more, he resigned himself to the blind futility of their duel...of whatever the fragments of what was left between them might be. When Angeal intervened yet again he was relieved...took the opportunity to step back and utter the dark-haired soldier’s name with a kind of surprised acquiescence. He foolishly assumed Genesis would do the same.

Whatever materia the redhead had did not work in his favor.

For a brief moment, the General was convinced the older man was going to kill all of them, because the sensation its activation brought forth had every hair on the back of his neck rising with a kind of primordial terror. There was the sense of something going horribly wrong...even as his fellow First cried out in pain as Angeal’s sword shattered and drove into his shoulder. Watching Rapier fall was a surreal experience; because _never_ had he seen Genesis relinquish his sword purely out of pain alone. For a single, breathtaking moment he almost stepped forward to catch the scarlet-haired First...but something warned him away.

“Genesis!”

Angeal was quicker. Even as it was clear that the eldest of them was disgusted by everything that had unfolded...the Commander’s childhood friend still had it in him to show sympathy and concern. Sephiroth hated himself for standing there...for looking coldly on when there were so many other things he could have done. But he recognized that he had neither the place nor the right. As the redhead remained...kneeling and hunched over in agony...he did nothing.

_“I bow before_ ** _no one.”_**

“Just a scrape.”

The General closed his eyes and turned away as the blue-eyed First rose in a sea of red leather and forced swagger. He didn’t consider this a victory, at all. No, Shinra’s Finest counted this a monumental failure of his character, of a character he was slowly and surely starting to lose in its entirety.

“Even if the morrow is barren of promises...Nothing shall forestall my return.”

He was fairly sure that no matter what way Genesis wanted to swing it, Sephiroth was already too far gone.

| 

“ _What?_ ” The redhead’s exclamation was dampened by the disengaging of their blades, a shower of sparks following him and his childhood friend as they staggered backwards.

Clenching Rapier’s hilt harder than was necessary, Genesis glared through a fringe of brilliant tresses at the man who was staring at him with cold emerald eyes and a smug smirk. How dare Sephiroth mock his love for him? Throw that word at him like it meant nothing, like it was an insult?

“Angeal,” The Commander purred, raising a leather-clad hand as he faced the silver-haired First. Cerulean irises flashed with hatred and rage as he continued. “Stand back please.” And now, his eyes were as frigid as icy lakes back at Icicle Inn, determined. “I’d like to have a _duel_ with Sephiroth.”

“ _Genesis._ ” Angeal protested behind him, but the fiery First didn’t care anymore; there was only one thing on his mind as his hand caressed the flawless rubicund of his blade, bringing the runes to life with the fire that was surging through his veins.

Only one of them was leaving the VR room today. Either him, or the silver-haired General. Or, Genesis would keep fighting him until the headquarters collapsed, killing them both for good. And what a fitting death that would be.

“That resignation of yours,” Genesis echoed from their fight two weeks ago, tilting his head to the side, sarcasm rolling off his tongue to drip cold and bitter into his words. “How long do you think you can keep it up?”

And with that he rushed forward, brought his sword downwards just as he’d been when trying to kill Hojo that night. Blocked, the redhead had to duck as Masamune swung in a silver arc, nearly claiming his head, as it’s owner had intended to cleave him in half.

With every Kiai that passed his lips, with every clang of their swords that momentarily deafened him, the scarlet-haired man could hear the cracks expanding inside him, starting from the very place Sephiroth had placed his warm palms upon his chest numerous times. He was leaving a trail of shards behind himself with every spark that danced between their visages; and yet instead of it being a loving gesture, it was filled to the brim with a desire to hurt one another, overflowing with hatred.

The faint exasperated breath that passed his… _ex?_... lover’s lips only served to fuel his determination, but he could only defend as the silver-haired man came after him, in a flurry of attacks not at all dissimilar to the ones Genesis had been showering him with. With a profound ache expanding in his chest, he acknowledged that instead of giving each other affection for affection, they were trading blows that were aimed to decapitate one another; would have already done so if they were any lesser than the equals they were.

Uttering those words, about him being able to kill the younger soldier, Sephiroth might have as well skewered him in his heart. Because how could the green-eyed First not see him? How could he disregard all the things that they had said and done, as if they all meant nothing to Shinra’s finest? How could the man now a good thirty feet above him, hovering in the air and awaiting his attack not see the sorrow flashing through his eyes? 

Because as much as the redhead was an expert at playing games, at hiding his emotions, he had let Sephiroth see through them all, to look past them and see his soul, broken as it was.

And now, the General was throwing it all away. 

He’d been a fool.

Drowning in a sea of anguish and fury at his own optimism for believing anyone, and most notably the silver-haired soldier, would ever love him, the fiery Commander let go of the spell that was engulfing his hand, knowing that it was nothing the green-eyed First couldn’t handle. Suddenly, he was struck by the image of their first kiss inside the VR room that seemed like an eternity ago, Genesis willed the scorching balls of fire back, watching with unwavering anticipation as they converged on their target. This time, he wasn’t going to let Sephiroth get away. 

It wasn’t going to kill the younger man, the redhead knew. Elemental magic had no effect on the General, but it’d leave him at his mercy so the Commander could beat some sense into him with his _bare_ hands. Preparing his finishing blow with a smug grin on his lips, the blue-eyed First was abruptly interrupted by his best friend who came out of nowhere. In an infinitesimal moment, the adrenaline in his veins froze as Angeal gripped his wrist, diverting it to the ocean roiling hundreds of feet below them.

“Stop this.” The raven-haired man’s voice was stern, unforgiving. “Are you trying to destroy the building?”

But Genesis wasn’t having any of it. Because he was _this_ close to finally being able to solve their problems with Sephiroth; he had been _this close_ to pushing past the all-encompassing fear and hopelessness that had left him crippled for the past couple of weeks, so he could figure out what had befallen his lover, what had come over him that had changed him so. And now, he’d lost it.

So, the Commander had to waste it on Angeal, yelling. “All I wanted was a duel with him!” Letting the spell burst against the other First’s face, the redhead watched him descend in a trail of smoke only to have his attention drawn back to the exploding conflagration above him. If his reflexes hadn’t kicked in on their own, Genesis would have been dead; the blue wave that had hurtled toward him cleaved the canon below him as though it was butter. Slashing through the rest, he watched with barely concealed disbelief and dread as the silver-haired soldier above him nearly cleaved him in two just as he’d landed upon what remained of Sister Ray only to have to jump backwards and back away again. 

In that moment, Genesis _believed_ that Sephiroth was going to kill him. The mere thought was enough to give him a small death; a part of him dying and withering inside as his shoulders slumped forward and no matter what, he couldn’t seem to be able to straighten his spine-as though there was an invisible burden upon his back- the green-eyed First descending in front of him with the same detached predatory expression that had been haunting his dreams.

He knew he hadn’t seen the last of the silver-haired man when sparks, loops of metal and slashes of blue forced him to retreat. Sephiroth emerged through the scraps flying in almost every direction like a heartless angel, his sword raised, and the power with which the younger First lunged at him had Genesis staggering back further and further. The redhead barely had time to dwell on his emotions, parrying the flurry of attacks that could be pretty much the end of him, at the last moment. 

The undercut that blazed through the cannon toward him and upwards was more proof of the fact that Masamune wanted for blood. His blood. Narrowing his eyes at the man in front of him, the Commander jumped back as more loops of canon joined the columns of water and froth that seemed to ever rise in height in front of his eyes. Blow after blow, and the ease with which Sephiroth single-handedly threw him back was staggering. Tumbling before he could finally skid to a stop and catch his breath, his leather clad fingers quickly caressed the ruby of his faithful sword before the scarlet-haired man had to raise it up and over his head to block the vicious attack that could’ve been his imminent doom. 

Raw energy was surging between them, those beautiful silvery tresses fluttering in a chaotic angry halo around his lover’s intense features. And he had to stop himself before going down that road, until the younger man asked Genesis to kill him. Pressing his lips together, the redhead watched, eyes wide with disbelief and at the same time seeking desperately to reassure himself that this man didn’t want to kill him; angry because he couldn’t seem to be able to find the Sephiroth he knew in those emerald pools.

And when the younger First called him _coward_ , the blue-eyed soldier recoiled as if slapped; the constant spark of showers ceasing as he landed on the edge of the crater they had made. And for a moment he wanted it to be an endless void so he could jump in it and never return, only to have that thought pushed to the back of his head. 

Masamune hissed as the demon of Wutai rearranged his grip, charging forward at him. Rapier flared in response before Genesis leaped to meet him somewhere in between. There was a yell, and an angry Angeal forced himself between them. Vaguely, the older man could hear Sephiroth call his best friend’s name, but there was a wave of magic rising up inside him in a tide; the brand new materia Shinra had fused and given to the redheaded First so he could unlock its powers; brushing like a healing wave against the dark gashes in his soul. Ancient sacraments flashed in front of his mind’s eye, and briefly it felt like he was summoning, his left fist surrounded by intricate twisting light that seemed to warp and twist the reality around it; it was almost ethereal and yet completely unknown. 

So, when he yelled “Out of my way!”, Genesis was thinking that he had nothing left to lose. The spell cut through the SOLDIER standard sword like it was a stalk of grass, sending fragments of it asunder, and the next thing he remembered was savage, brutal, debilitating pain that was slashing through his shoulder, expanding at an inhuman speed, and the Commander couldn’t stop the cry of agony that ripped through his throat.

Rapier fell through his fingertips like a dead weight while the scarlet-haired First was brought down to his knees, groaning like a wounded animal, a lesser beast as he clutched the wound. 

The simulation crashed around him with Angeal’s worried cry of his name. And Genesis wanted to tell him he was alright, but pearlescent teeth weren’t leaving where they had found purchase on his lower lip as wave after wave of throbbing pain washed over him, his exhalations overloud against the cacophony of electrical sparks and the constant ring of the alarm in the ruined training room. 

_“And if you love me… Will you_ **bow** _before me?”_

The velvety baritone burnt through his psyche like a white-hot brand, and he finally found his voice. “Just a scrape.” So, Genesis had to get up, because Sephiroth had got whatever he’d wanted, leaving him with naught. His pride now, too, lay in shambles at the silver-haired man’s feet. But the fiery Commander knew that the General wanted for none. It had been a game, and the redhead had been bested, because he had fallen. 

Straightening to his full height, the blue-eyed soldier continued, before bending down to retrieve his blade. “If I just leave it alone, it’ll quickly heal.” Avoiding their gazes, Genesis moved forward, his voice slightly breathless as he quote, raising his chin while he passed Sephiroth by, who slowly turned his back on him.

“Even if the morrow is barren of promises… Nothing shall forestall, my return.” 


	21. Chapter Twenty One

He wasn’t healing.

His earliest waking hours were tainted by the insidious tendrils of dread that seemed to be ever present, crawling up the walls and ever lingering in his apartment, like some unwanted guest, a parasite; leeching onto his back and never leaving him as he went about his daily duties.

It seemed like he couldn’t get enough of sleep these days, and nothing about his schedule had changed. Genesis hadn’t been doing any more training than he had before, he wasn’t staying longer in his office doing ridiculous amounts of paperwork, nothing. Yet, somehow, he almost had to crawl all the way to his bedroom when he set foot in his living quarters only to collapse in bed so close to unconsciousness, and the cycle would repeat itself.

It’d been almost a week now since that damned spar.

If he could clear the haze that seemed to camouflage his mind like a heavy blanket these days, the Commander could vaguely remember that something definitely went wrong when he’d cast that spell. The materia he’d used had been unstable; unstable enough for it to self-destruct, as the redhead had later come to realize.

Thinking back, none of these things -well except his wound- mattered in the face of the words Sephiroth had uttered; in the face of how he’d behaved. It had cut him, deep. Inside him, there was a deep gash that seemed to grow just like the wound on his shoulder with every single day he avoided his comrades, especially the silver-haired one. It was bleeding, and Genesis wanted to somehow crack open his chest, to reach inside and rip it out; shove it inside those cruel hands that could make him or break him with the slightest of touches.

Shaking his head, the scarlet-haired First tried to focus on what he was doing. His new morning routine; shower, change the bandage wrapping around his torso like a second skin now, get dressed, go to work.

They had a briefing today with Lazard. For the past few weeks, the name of Fort Tamblin kept popping up. It was Wutai’s last stronghold. Capture that, and the seemingly never-ending Wutai war would be over. Though it was still too early for that, the plans about how they were going to go about it had already been set in motion. Despite the stalemate their forces had come to on the current front, Shinra had been determined to get back at Lord Godo for ‘the losses they had inflicted on SOLDIER’. It was laughable; because everyone knew that was _not_ the reason behind the President’s impatience. The money that was running out of the old man’s pockets for the war effort was probably proving to be more than he’d anticipated. So why would the businessman waste it on them when he could still get the same results? When he could stuff it in Scarlet’s plunging neckline or under Heidegger’s belt? They always seemed to be in need of more gil. Genesis definitely _did not_ want to think about what the head of the Shinra Company did with his wealth in his free time. _No_ , that was a hard pass.

Swinging his red leather coat over his shoulder, the redhead had to bite back the groan as his shoulder protested. Trying to slowly ease his hand into the sleeves, he mused that _‘Old habits die hard indeed.’_ There was a sensation of wet warmth, and the fiery First didn’t need to have visual of the wound to know that it’d started bleeding yet again.

Honestly, the blue-eyed soldier had been reluctant to go see Hollander because he was afraid of facing what the scientist might have to say about his condition. Whatever this was, it wasn’t normal. To say he was getting accustomed to it was a big blatant lie; but it’d started getting easier to push past the tremendous terror he woke up to, to find his pillows covered in dulling strands of auburn. Something was happening to him, that was for sure. But what it was, Genesis didn’t want to know. He didn’t think he was ready to face it yet.

Retrieving his phone from the nightstand, the redhead put it inside his pocket only to feel something inside. Taking the foreign object out with his middle and index finger, he found it to be Sephiroth’s access card for the archives. Putting it back, the Commander made a quick work of getting ready before heading out.

He had been meaning to give it back to the silver-haired man. He’d checked the archives during the couple of weeks he’d avoided his lover… _‘No, ex-lover.’_ Genesis corrected himself, because definitely the General thought they were over; he had said so himself. The urge to clutch his shirt under where the criss-crossed belts of his harness was so strong, he had to curl his hand into a fist to keep it at his side as he walked toward the elevator.

Anyway… He had checked the archives during the couple of weeks he’d avoided his _ex-lover_ and turned up empty handed. The redhead hadn’t worked up the courage to check for Project G itself; again trying to access his own records and then Sephiroth’s and Angeal’s, but to no avail. It was ridiculous really, because the silver-haired man had one of the highest clearances inside the company, or so Genesis had thought. He’d been meaning to return it. He’d worked up the courage to get out of his apartment, office, wherever the sudden surge of bravado struck him, but by the time he’d reached the floor of the green-eyed First’s residence or office, he’d faltered.

Because he simply couldn’t face the younger soldier; he couldn’t. Because then the scarlet-haired man might be tempted to stay; he might not be able to resist the magnetic pull that drew him to Sephiroth and then-...

“...-Sephiroth’s brigade is going to wait here, and while your forces have besieged the Fort, the General’s going to set off the distraction.” Lazard was explaining, a bright red dot on the screen by the right wall that showed a strategic map of Fort Tamblin and surrounding areas.

A wave of nausea rose up in him as Genesis realized he’d spaced out yet again. In front of him, Sephiroth’s eyes were glued to the map with more concentration that was necessary, as if the First was trying his hardest not to look at him.

The Commander suddenly wanted to stand up from his chair and yank on those black leather lapels; to make him look, to ask him if he was that repulsing of a sight for those green green eyes to deign to look at. But the redhead didn’t. He was feeling hot, like a furnace was burning inside him. Looking down at the screen in front of him on the table, the fiery First brushed a hand across his forehead only to find his red clad fingertips sliding slickly on the smooth skin.

Amazing. He was sweating too. Maybe he had a fever. It was rare with mako enhancements, but it still happened. Although, he hadn’t been near Wutai where the awful unpredictable climate could almost nullify the effects of mako, there was probably a logical reason. Someone was saying something, probably the director, but it seemed like the voice was coming from underwater, drowned by the rush of blood in his ears.

Genesis had to take a break.

The scrape of the legs of his chair was just as dull, but the Commander couldn’t bring himself to care as his vision swam rather dangerously and he had to hold onto the backseat of Angeal’s chair beside him to steady himself. Vaguely, he could make out his own voice mumbling something, perhaps too low, about needing to take a break as he walked toward the translucent door that seemed to be dancing in front of his cerulean eyes.

_‘Just a couple more steps.’_

Or maybe not, because suddenly the world tilted and everything was upside down. Muffled thuds were drawing closer, and soon instead of the bright blinding lights there were black silhouettes above him, dancing and moving and Genesis moaned, feebly trying to get up, to try and hold his head because it felt like it was going to explode. There was a flash of silver hair, a familiar baritone…

“Seph…” The older man pleaded, asked, blindly reaching toward the direction of the voice he had heard. “Sephirth…” He slurred, trying to get up yet again, so maybe he could see where that damned First was.

And then he was there.

For a moment, the Commander was fairly certain he’d passed out; because there was _no way_ that Sephiroth was leaning over him, his face a mask of worry and anguish. A black-gloved hand hovered over his cheek before apparently thinking better of it, withdrawing once more only to rest on his good shoulder as endless platinum locks descended to halo his visage...shielding him from whatever else was going on, or whoever else might be looking at him. The scarlet-haired soldier was given a split-second of lucidity; where his vision fishbowled to give him startling central clarity; a clarity where the General was hunched over him...his head in his lap as he and Angeal hissed at each other over him. Genesis wasn’t able to see what else was going on, but the murmur of startled voices had receded somewhat, and he assumed that someone had ordered the ‘crowd’ away. Beryl eyes glanced down to find the older man staring dazedly up at him and they tightened somewhat-an unnamable emotion behind them-before they looked away again.

Briefly, the President’s face appeared between heads of silver and onyx, his face a mask of facetious worry, and the Commander was struck with a revulsion so virulent he wanted to vomit. Sephiroth was quicker however, and the snarl that rose from his throat and the way he lunged upward somewhat-from the waist-left Genesis somewhat startled. Because despite everything that had happened between them, he’d never been under the impression that the younger man had ever been _unhinged._ But the look in those viridian eyes was bordering on feral as he watched the ‘overseer’ of Shinra back away, looking disturbed and somewhat contemplative. Angeal was watching the silver-haired soldier with equal parts concern and urgency; when the General’s focus returned to the redhead’s childhood friend he began to speak again. The blue-eyed soldier caught the words _‘Hollander’_ and _‘Science Division’_ before his vision began to fail him again...much more rapidly.

Despite the direness of his situation that was running in the background of his failing mind, a wave of relief washed over him; because he’d missed this, this feeling of belonging, of peace, and of being at home. The sob that wracked his frame and escaped his lips brought those brilliant green eyes back to him. His vision blurred again for a moment; a feeling of dampness rolling down his face to pool in the hollow of his ear. And the sheer terror that seemed to crush his heart under a black leaden boot was so crippling; to think that this might be the last time he could see those beautiful emerald eyes… Reaching up with a trembling hand, Genesis cradled the side of Sephiroth’s face, the simple gesture seeming to exert him down to the last of his prowess. Goddess, how much he loved those eyes… those gorgeous lips that lit up his entire life every time they curled into a smile…

“...‘m...sorry… Seph…” His thumb was drawing lax supposedly soothing circles on the smooth skin as everything seemed to get darker and darker, the younger man’s face was drawing away, the distance between them increasing even though something was telling him that wasn’t physically possible, but why and how it escaped him… and the Commander suddenly felt really really tired…

“I.. lo-...”

Black.

* * *

Sephiroth never knew he could panic spectacularly.

Sitting in on a tactical meeting filled to the brim with people he apparently wanted to kill-if his mind was any indication of his true desires-the silver-haired soldier quite veritably lost his head when Genesis collapsed. He didn’t think-preferred to move-when the redhead stood, wavered and then sank to the floor. His singular regret was that he wasn’t fast enough to catch him, but he was cognizant enough to hear the scarlet-haired First gasp his name. All thoughts of regret-of decorum-fled after that single, whimpered supplication passed those lips. The younger man was helpless to hearken to it, to follow his fellow First to the floor and cradle that head of crimson hair in his lap...leaning over him, every inch of his being trembling with suppressed tension.

Angeal-to his credit-was nearly as quick. The owner of the Buster Sword jumped from his chair as if electrified, leaving the aforementioned weapon behind in order to hasten quickly to his childhood friend's side. Genesis was less than coherent...dizzied and disoriented as those glazed sapphire eyes stared into Sephiroth's, almost as if _begging_ him to look into them, to see him. He couldn't. Not because he didn't want to or didn't care, but because if he looked too long he would lose himself...lose himself to panic and give himself to hysteria. He was too close to it these days in any case, always riding that fine line between temperance and bloodlust... sanity and insanity. If he looked at Genesis he would draw Masamune and slaughter anyone who declared they couldn't save him.

So he let those broken pieces of his name pass cerise lips while he looked onward…arguing half heartedly with Angeal as Lazard tried to clear the room. When the President attempted to impose upon their ‘huddle’ Sephiroth very nearly clawed his eyes out. Seeing those rheumy, squinting eyes in that rotund, sweaty face so close to the man he loved brought forth a violence that nearly choked him. It took every facet of his will to shove it down...even as the free part of his body coiled to strike, he battled with his mentality for dominance. In the end, it was the President who retreated...somewhat pale as the General snarled something to an end and coherency he himself didn't know.

When a crowd of techs came jogging in-closely followed by Hollander-who was just as sweaty as the President and twice as smelly-it took Angeal five minutes to convince the younger man that nothing was going to happen to Genesis if he let go. Both the General and Commander were told to stay once their redheaded comrade was placed on a medical gurney, but such orders were met with yells of protest...and they were permitted to trail behind. As they descended to the Science Division, Sephiroth couldn't help but agonize over all the things he'd wanted to say to the man currently lying pale and lifeless on the mobile bed ahead of him. What if Genesis never woke up and he never got to say that he was sorry? That he loved him back? That he'd never wanted things to be like this between them? The very thought was enough to leave him aching and agonized.

Hollander and Hojo had a brief spat once they got down to the lab area.

It was something along the lines of Sephiroth's ward taunting Genesis’ doctor for his 'failures as a scientist’. He barely acknowledged it, barely noticed that it was _Angeal_ who promptly lost his head and bellowed at the two quacks to _‘save their lover’s spat for later’,_ which caused Hojo to throw him the filthiest look possible. And Sephiroth wanted to tell the dark-haired First that angering Hojo was a very bad idea, but he was too panicked to do anything other than mumble something pleading and incoherent. By that time they were moving again; past the undesignated corridors and into Hollander's personal laboratory. He wouldn't let them go any further, and while the General wanted to protest, he knew Angeal was right about not pushing their luck.

Instead, they stationed themselves by the door to the private section of the labs, watching as Genesis was wheeled through. As an afterthought, Sephiroth slipped off his bracelet and hastily slid it over lax fingers 'till it was clasped around the redhead's wrist. Angeal watched him do so with a small, knowing kind of smile.

And then they were alone.

The panic was worse-Sephiroth found-when he had nothing to do. Curling against the dark-hued, unforgiving doorframe, the silver-haired man forced himself to remain still as his fellow First began to pace. He concentrated on the rhythmic pattern of Angeal's boots, on the soft but not indiscernible beat of his heart. This was barely enough to keep him from beating down the door, but neither of them could intervene. It wouldn't help Genesis... wouldn't make him get better faster. And what if he didn-! The green-eyed soldier gritted his teeth as the repetitive thought surfaced. He couldn't afford to think of that... couldn't concentrate on the worst possible scenario. It wouldn't help, wouldn't help any-

“ _-Sephiroth._ ”

The silver-haired First blinked confusedly, looked around to realize he had slid down the wall and was currently hunched over, gripping his hair so hard his scalp was burning. Angeal was crouched in front of him, one hand extended to grasp his shoulder. Oddly, his touch was comforting. Sephiroth acknowledged-with a jolt-that Genesis’ childhood friend had never touched him...not really. He'd always been deeply respectful of his personal space. The feeling of his hand wasn't anything like that of the redhead currently being examined in the labs behind them, but it was still grounding and reassuring. Swallowing, the younger man blinked rapidly, slowly lowering his arms and letting them fall to his sides.

“I'm sorry.” He said flatly.

He watched with a kind of horrified observance as Angeal's face turned _sad._ He then felt even more horror as the man in question hugged him so tightly he was surprised his spine didn't crack.

“You didn't do anything wrong.” The dark-haired First said fiercely. He drew back and clasped both of Sephiroth's shoulders, looking at him seriously. “Neither of you did.”

The green-eyed man felt his jaw tighten as he looked down.

“I love him.” He murmured.

Angeal chuckled.

“I know you do. He loves you too. The fact that you’re both hopelessly dim and idiotic around each other tells me that.” There was the rustle of leather and fabric as Genesis’ childhood friend slid down the wall next to him, drawing his knees up. “You're good for each other. Maybe not right now, but every couple has bad spots.” He raised an eyebrow when Sephiroth looked at him incredulously. “You're very powerful, dynamic individuals with powerful, dynamic emotions. So when things go wrong...on a normal scale, they go _very_ wrong. But really, it's just who you are.”

Angeal smiled.

“So don't give up. You'll find each other….it just takes time.”

* * *

When he came to, Genesis winced as the bright lights on the ceiling hit his retinas; closing his eyes and blinking rapidly, it seemed to dim somewhat.

“Hey.” It was Angeal’s voice, soft and worried, and the Commander tried to fight off the weariness that was weighing him down like a thick comforter and fuzzing his brain. Finally managing to crack open his eyelids, he saw his childhood friend with a wavering smile at the foot of the bed; the expression on his raven-haired friend’s face a mixture of guilt, grief and worry, as he had a muscular arm bent at the elbow, pressing two fingers inside.

“...’nngeal…” The blue-eyed First mumbled, frowning at his own voice. “What happened?”

His best friend was about to open his mouth when Hollander came into his line of sight. “Your wound isn’t healing. I tried injecting mako, but that didn’t seem to have any effects on it.” The professor said in a matter-of-factly voice, as though he’d just made the biggest discovery of the century. Genesis wanted to scoff, to tell him that he already knew that; that he’d tried curing himself a hundred times, but he wasn’t really in the mood. “You’d lost a lot of blood, so I’m guessing your loss of consciousness might have been due to that. I took a couple of samples from your bone marrow, blood and saliva to run some tests. I’ll call you down to the labs when they’re ready.” The scientist approached him with a supposedly friendly smile that made his lips twitch to curl in contempt, to lay a sweaty hand on the thin sheet covering his bare chest. “For now, get some rest.”

Looking over his shoulder, the stout man spoke to the other occupant of the room. “I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

When Hollander was finally gone, the scarlet-haired First pulled the sheet off, slowly raising himself on his elbows. “Genesis, you should rest.” His fellow soldier warned, motioning to get up from his seat if he attempted to stand up.

“I’m just sitting up.” He raised his hands in a surrendering gesture, only to feel something move with his arm. Looking at his left hand, an IV was latching onto the back of his palm filled with a dark ruby that had a slight green glow to it. Further down, loosely hugging his forearm was the bracelet he’d given Sephiroth on their first date. Slamming the door in the face of the memories that were about to resurface in his mind, Genesis looked around the room for the first time, the speed with which he turned his head making everything a little blurry and somewhat swimming in their places. But there was no silver-haired General in sight.

“Where is he?” The Commander looked at Angeal, pressing his lips into a thin line, because he didn’t want to think about anything at the moment; he didn’t want to think about their spar, he didn’t want to think about the fight they had, he didn’t want to reminisce upon the memories they had made together. The fiery First just wanted to hold his lover in his arms; to tell him that he shouldn’t have disappeared like that, to explain to him that Sephiroth had done nothing wrong, that Genesis had been simply afraid of facing the reality about Shinra, that he’d been trying to rebuild everything he’d believed in and couldn’t just face the green-eyed man back then. “Where is he, _Angeal??_ ” He repeated louder this time, his voice shaking with barely suppressed emotions.

“He’s right outside.” Angeal’s blue eyes were kind and understanding as he stood up, coming to stand in front of him where his legs were dangling over the edge of the bed. A warm hand gently squeezed his right shoulder before his sable-haired friend spoke. “I know that both of you love each other, and very much at that. But Gen, you two need to sit down and talk things through. Logically, and with a clear head, not running high on adrenaline or emotions that can cloud your judgement.” There was a small smile as his comrade-in-arms continued. “The rough patches, they come and go; you should just stick together through them, not let them tear you apart.”

His childhood friend bowed his head, placing a friendly kiss on the crown of his head, and Genesis’ arm curled around Angeal’s waist, of its own accord, before the fiery Commander pressed his head against the other man’s torso. Goddess, he’d missed this; this easy-going friendship they had, the unconditional support the raven-haired soldier had always bestowed him with, even as undeserving as he had been. The older man wondered that probably, there was nothing he could do, simply no way for him to return the love his friend had given him all these years. The low rumble of his fellow First’s voice was coming both from up and over his head and through the knitted fabric of the Soldier First Class issue garb as he spoke. “You, both of you, are powerful and strong-willed individuals; and I believe in and support you, both of you, no matter what. Remember that.”

The fiery-haired man nodded his head, sighing because he simply didn’t know what to say. To say thank you was the worst possible way he could show his appreciation for what was said and what was implied by the unsaid words. Genesis hadn’t realized that he’d been clutching the man’s shirt until Angeal motioned to pull away, but was unable. Hastily whispering a ‘Thank you, ‘Geal.’ that was so low the redhead wondered if his friend had heard him, the man in question chuckled and drew back, the same kind smile on his usually stern features as he walked backwards. “I guess you two have some catching up to do… I’ll tell him on my way out. Get some rest, Gen. I love you.”

Holding his head in his hand as the hydraulic door closed with a hiss, Genesis tried focusing on the cut mako stones that were dangling from the silver bracelet. The whirring of the mechanism that opened the door made his breath hitch, quickening the rhythm of it and the beating of his heart. It took every ounce of his willpower to stay seated where he was, not to look up as the entrance opened.

It was him. The Commander didn’t need his eyes to know. That faint rustle of leather, that steady purposeful gait… he’d know it anywhere. The butterflies that were dancing in his stomach made him feel like some high schooler asking out his secret crush for the graduation dance. It didn’t exactly help his situation, the redhead could say that it made it actually worse, considering the heat that rushed up his neck to dust his cheeks.

Sephiroth was standing right in front of him.

Closing his eyes, Genesis swallowed the strange feeling in his throat before encircling the black clad waist with his arms, pulling the younger man close as far as the IV allowed him to move to the edge of the bed.

Sephiroth was here, with him.

Reacquainting himself with his lovers physicality, relief washed over him and he couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped his lips. Because Genesis Rhapsodos was an idiot. A blithering idiot. Instead of being together, which was something they’d both obviously yearned for, he’d forced them to stay apart for nearly a month.

Inside his arms, the silver-haired General was tense, unresponsive. For some reason, it didn’t make the redhead recoil and shriek about what was wrong. A small part of him acknowledged that he’d known it would be like this. The silver-haired soldier was desperately reticent in terms of a change in continuity. For weeks, they’d been avoiding each other...and for the older man to suddenly inundate him with affection was alien and a little bit intimidating. Murmuring something soothing, soft, and nonsensical; Genesis pulled back somewhat and lifted his bracelet-free hand, slipping the aforementioned item off the other. Moving slowly, he took Sephiroth’s right hand and slid it back on; twining their fingers together as he did so...placing a delicate kiss to the bluish veins on the underside of the green-eyed First’s wrist.

At this, Sephiroth seemed to deflate.

Really, he seemed to _melt,_ because every aspect of his being sagged with a kind of physical and spiritual exhaustion before he was leaning forward...exhaling so loudly it was as if he was trying to expel some type contagion before that head of platinum hair dropped onto the redhead’s uninjured shoulder….his free hand came up to grip the Commander’s side. It took Genesis maybe a moment or two to realize that the younger man was shivering….shaking really, though he couldn’t smell any tears. Angeal’s comment before their spar- _‘S_ _omething’s wrong’-_ came back to hit him full force and he was seized by a feeling of pragmatic trepidation...but he couldn’t place the source or the reasoning behind it. The blue-eyed soldier only knew that Sephiroth wasn’t prone to agitation...not to this degree. So he did the only thing he could do; Genesis let his other arm rise so he could card soothing fingers through endless silver locks until his fellow First stilled and took several deep breaths.

“I’m sorry.” The General said flatly, drawing back. Green met sapphire as their gazes locked. “For everything.” The younger man gestured at the IV, at the gurney. “Not just because of this.” Long, pale fingers snatched at the redhead’s hand and he allowed it, watching as the silver-haired soldier pressed his lips to the inside of his palm before cupping it between both of his; bowing his head over them. “I miss you.” He muttered between locked digits. “Every day.”

Freeing his hand from those warm strong palms, Genesis cradled the side of the Sephiroth’s face, a somber smile curling his lips somewhat before he echoed the silver-haired man’s words. “I’m sorry… for everything, and I’ve missed you, every moment of every day.” An ache bloomed in his chest by the time he was finished, because those brilliant eyes that the redhead loved the most were troubled; cloudy and dark, and not in a good way. “Will you do something… for me?” The older man wasn’t sure if he had the right to ask, especially after what he’d basically forced them through, but he just didn’t want to see the General this way.

Angeal had been right, there was something wrong, and the fiery First didn’t want to invade the green-eyed man’s privacy, didn’t want to interfere with whatever was going on inside Sephiroth’s head by asking him about it. The Commander believed that whenever his lover was ready and he felt like he needed to talk, he’d do it when the time was right. Genesis just had to make him understand that he was there for him, that he loved him, supported and respected him no matter what.

If it had been one of his games, the redhead would have waited for the silver-haired soldier to promise that he’d do it. But now, he didn’t want for games; at least not now. They both needed some time to heal. “Will you believe me when I say I’ll support you and be there for you, no matter what?” Encircling pale wrists with his fingers, the older man raised them to his face, close enough to plant a kiss against the smooth skin of Sephiroth’s palms before he continued, azure never leaving emerald. “You’re smart and brilliant Sephiroth, and I’ve always really envied your will… I don’t claim to know what it is that you’re struggling with, and I’m not going to push you because I respect you…” Genesis trailed off, trying to follow through with his sentence taking more effort than was necessary, but he chalked it up to his clouded mind, before smiling reassuringly. “I just want you to know you can talk to me… and I believe in you, I believe you can emerge from this, whatever it is, _victorious_ , because that’s just who you are.”

Goddess, he hadn’t spoken that many words for quite a while now… but it felt like a heavy leaden weight had been lifted off his heart. The bright expression stretching on his lips, the Commander added, dropping his head as another flash of pink dusted his cheeks. “I know… that sounded like Angeal, but it’s true.”

It had the opposite effect he was looking for, though only momentarily.

Sephiroth’s expression shuttered; though it wasn’t hostile...simply guarded. He drew back somewhat, those emerald eyes observing him as if afraid he might disappear if he looked away. Then, that impassive visage bled into that of confusion and despair. It left the older man somewhat breathless, because he didn’t think he’d seen his fellow First look like that before. It was as disturbing as it was concerning. The silver-haired soldier opened his mouth, hesitated before looking downwards, teeth biting into his lower lip before apparently realizing what he was doing. The General cupped his cheek, tilting his head upwards so he could watch his other hand card through Genesis’ hair. The Commander acknowledged that the touch didn’t feel quite so affectionate as it used to...it felt more possessive...domineering.

“What if...I was never that person to begin with?”

Genesis froze.

Not because of the context of the words...but because of the tone in which they were said. Cold, frigid and lifeless...the brilliant green of those familiar eyes suddenly alien and unknown. The silver-haired soldier was still observing him, but it was a calculated, emotionless sort of observance. Like he was gauging his loyalty, and not to his heart...but to his _purpose._ But what kind of purpose could someone like Sephiroth possibly have? What means to an end could he have come up with in the weeks they’d been apart? None of it made any sense. The individual in question was still talking...and this time, there was genuine worry in his tone.

“Genesis, what if everything I am is just...what I’ve been taught to be?” When the blue-eyed soldier looked at him in confusion, he continued. “...What if this-” He gestured at himself. “-Is just...what if it’s all I’ve ever known, and what I really am is...not good at all?”

And Genesis felt his heart break a little bit with that statement. Not because it hurt him, but because of the obvious insecurity behind it. Sephiroth was now fully aware of his emotional and physical limitations. Guiltily, the older man acknowledged that their relationship probably had something to do with it. The silver-haired First was only now discovering that the parameters of his personality were severely limited...that his self-definition was more than what he’d been taught it should be. That would-he imagined-be frightening for anyone. For someone with as many responsibilities as the man before him...it was terrifying. The redhead startled a bit as the General leaned in somewhat, bending his neck until their foreheads were pressed together and their lips were but inches apart.

“Genesis.” Sephiroth repeated, and there was a ragged lilt to his voice. “What if I’m someone _terrible?”_

Genesis couldn’t let the fear that had crippled him last time overtake him now. If those eyes were now alien, he didn’t care; the redhead would dive deep, relearn the darkest part of those emerald oceans if he had to. If that deep velvety voice was going to be like the frigid gusts of the Northern Crater, if those warm hands were going to be domineering and possessive, the Commander would be just as proprietorial. He wasn’t going to back down. If Sephiroth wanted to be the most gelid of glaciers, Genesis would be the most torrid of infernos.

Mirroring the younger man’s gesture, the scarlet-haired First tangled his fingers in the silvery mane, tugging on them slightly just so he had his companion’s undivided attention. “Now you _listen to me_. Ten years ago, I met a statue of a man; always alone, never talking to anyone outside formalities and mission parameters, never wanting to be part of anything other than the perfect ticking clock of the Shinra company. It frustrated me no end, because there were many things to be had which he never wanted for.” Determined cerulean eyes bore into Sephiroth’s green as the older man spoke, their breaths mingling between them, the faint brush of their lips tantalizing as ever... but Genesis needed to get these words out. “A couple months ago, I started dating someone; so curious he ruined my getaway. He gave me his trust when I least expected him to. I burned under his touch whereas I’d expected ice, and then he gave me his love…” Placing his left hand over his heart, the Commander let out a shaky breath. “Made me realize I had a heart; told me numerous times that I was brilliant, that I was simply looking at it wrong. That everyone was wrong.”

Letting his eyes flutter shut, Genesis nuzzled Sephiroth’s face, still leaning their foreheads together; his breaths were coming out in deep hot puffs overloud in his ears as he continued. “That statue was what Shinra taught you to be. You staying away from me and Angeal, you never trusting anyone was what Hojo taught you to be. And look at you now, Sephiroth.” The redhead pulled back, letting the younger soldier see him, see through him, see through his eyes. “You’ve come a long way. I don’t know what you’ve been going through since… _that_ day, but believe in yourself. You’re still you. Shinra has no say in who you are now, Hojo has no say in _who you are_.” For a moment, the scarlet-haired man wished he could turn back time; to go back to their vacation together at Mideel and lock their past selves there, to make them stay and never leave. But that wasn’t feasible and he knew it. Letting out a shaky breath, the blue-eyed soldier opened his eyes. “You told me yourself that Hojo didn’t teach affection to you, that the concept of friendship, the concept of a normal life wasn’t what Shinra had taught you. _You_ were the one who told me _strong_ doesn’t equate coldness, and you’re the furthest from cold I’ve ever seen.”

Suddenly he was feeling tired again… too drained, emotionally and physically. Swaying dangerously, the hand that was tangled in between moonlight tresses clutched the collar of Sephiroth’s coat, so hard his muscles started trembling with the effort. A dark black wave was rising up inside him, higher and higher, with the dark promise of swallowing him whole. “Seph… whatever this is, whatever you’re pursuing, I’m right there with you as much... as I can... I’m not going… anywhere.”

The room was spinning around him, the effort to hold onto the leather fabric, to open his mouth to speak, to follow through with a certain train of thought too much to maintain, so Genesis just closed his eyes, leaning his head against that bare chest as he slumped forward. For a moment he thought he was going to lose time again, but the redhead was still present… even if it was on the brink of his consciousness, even if his mind was a big black void, he was still cognizant. So he was still fully aware of when large, gentle but inexorable hands pressed him back down onto the bed; when a curtain of silver hair swung forward so the younger man could press his lips to his brow. Dimly, he acknowledged it was the first direct kiss he’d received from the General in a _very_ long time. And as he descended into weary somnolence, Genesis barely registered the words that seemed to come from eons away...tinged with equal amounts of exhaustion and despair...inundated with grief.

“...Where I’m going you cannot follow.” Sephiroth murmured into his ear. “I won’t let your fire be suffocated by every monstrous thing I conjure forth.” Cold fingers brushed his cheeks.

“...My paths are wrought with sunless ‘morrows, and as bright as you are...these thoroughfares are darker still.”


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a rape scene, so please beware.
> 
> P.S. Our portrayal of Genesis' degradation is based on Bloom and Werner syndrome.

The human body possessed approximately 700 muscles.

Sephiroth estimated it would take him half as many days to take over the entirety of Gaia. Moving through a set of positions, the silver-haired man swept Masamune behind him before executing a complicated forward swipe; rotating as he did so. Platinum locks glittered in the relative darkness of the training room; the sound of his feet moving overcast by the ambience of artificial thunder. Around him, the simulation was that of a grey, rainy sky occasionally punctuated with ragged forks of lightning. The green-eyed First rarely used this particular module-not since he was a teenager in any case-but the atmosphere allowed him to think without the distraction of killing digital enemies.

344.7 days, to be exact.

Stopping, the General stood upright and frowned, sheathing his sword before sinking to the floor in a cross-legged position. This train of the thought was getting him absolutely nowhere. Taking over Gaia was the kind of thing the President wanted to do, not him. He didn’t want power, domination, or control...he just wanted to be able to do what he wanted. To _live_ how he wanted. At the same time, some part of him was thoroughly convinced he could never do that with the world in its current state; certainly not with Shinra in the seat of power. And how else to bring a giant to its knees than to take its place? He would be a fair sovereign; really, he didn’t need to be a sovereign, just some type of regulator.

But that wouldn’t stop humans from being cruel.

Clenching his fists, the silver-haired soldier gritted his teeth. Habituality. Humans were creatures of habituality; and they would forever look for ways to usurp, to torture and better those who they perceived as lesser or stranger. That wasn’t accounting for the fact that he was equally human, but at least he recognized when there was some sort of flaw in the genealogical design of an entire species. At least animals had the excuse of insentience; of being unable to think socially on a complex level. Humans did not have that excuse; and despite their technological and scientific advances, they remained ignorant to the consequences of the monstrous acts they committed upon each other.

No, it would be better if he was alone.

An image of red hair and smiling blue eyes flashed across Sephiroth’s cerebral vision and he amended that statement. Perhaps not entirely alone. Verily, Genesis was not a horrible person, and neither was Angeal. If he could narrow down humanity’s reproductive pool to kind and generous individuals maybe biology would take care of itself. The silver-haired First blinked and scoffed incredulously at his mental processes. Where was he even _going_ with this train of thought?! Considering partial-genocide for the sake of creating _nice people_ was beyond ridiculous, it was bordering on insanity. If Hojo caught wind of anything even remotely similar going on in his head he would tear him limb from limb and never pick up the pieces.

That didn’t make the thoughts go away.

There was also the facet of truth that some small part of him didn’t want anyone to survive but those within his extremely small circle of trusted individuals. Beyond _that_ fact was the singular verity that all those individuals were male and that reproduction would be physically impossible. Sephiroth was not concerned with the longevity of the human species in terms of goodness or honor...he was only interested in keeping those he considered valuable close to him. Telling himself he wanted ‘good people’ to live was simply his way of rationalizing against the truth that his psyche wanted to kill off the most dominant species on the planet. Realistically, this was more heinous than trying to usurp natural selection. He was-veritably-becoming certifiable. That much was clear. Irritably, Shinra’s finest reflected that this was becoming more than a minor inconvenience. Initially, he’d assumed his fight with Genesis had simply thrown him; it was now looking like this was going to be a permanent facet of his psychological process.

“Hey.”

Closing his eyes, Sephiroth briefly wondered if Angeal was shadowing him on purpose. It would make sense, considering how out of character he’d been acting over the past few days. Instinctively, he knew it wasn’t true. Hewley wasn’t the type to invade the privacy of others, no matter how bizarre their actions might be. Ever since Genesis’ collapse during the debriefing, the dark-haired First had been somewhat distracted and distraught. It was understandable; the redhead had been his friend his entire life. Sephiroth himself was worried sick, but he was also preoccupied with the fact that his brain seemed to be coming apart at the seams. Realistically, he couldn’t care for his partner if he went insane, and that was looking like more and more of a possibility every day.

“Angeal.” Sephiroth deadpanned, turning his head somewhat to acknowledge the older man’s presence.

There was the rustle of fabric as the dark-haired First crouched next to him, and he felt rather than saw Genesis’ childhood friend observing him cautiously. A jagged bolt of simulated lightning threw the scene into sharp relief before plunging them into darkness once more. In the background, thunder rolled. The silver-haired soldier forced himself to relax, to tear himself away from the thoughts that had been plaguing him to focus on the present. A present where Masamune was digging into his hip and his legs were slowly going numb from the amount of time he’d spent sitting on the floor. Angeal sighed and he startled somewhat.

“You’re worried about Genesis.” was the non-judgemental statement. When Sephiroth jerked his head noncommittally, his fellow First continued. “But you’re also worried about something else.”

The subject of the initial statement had once cursed the dark-haired First’s ability to separate one issue from another. At the time, the General hadn’t known what he meant; now he did. Angeal was simply too clever to keep in the dark, even if they didn’t know each other very well. Privately, the General lamented his carelessness, his inability to compartmentalize as he usually did. Grimly, he wondered if he’d truly been so obvious in his distraction...if others had noticed besides the man currently kneeling next to him. If they had...it was only a matter of time before Hojo called him down to the labs. At length...Sephiroth opened his mouth.

“....Do you ever think people are evil?”

Angeal appeared to consider his question; mako blue eyes stared at the floor for a moment, onyx brows furrowed with thought.

“That depends what you mean.” was the calm reply. “I don’t think people are born evil, but I think people make evil choices.” There was the creak of leather as he shifted. “If you’re asking me if I think people as a whole are just...generally terrible creatures...sometimes. As a soldier I ask myself that question quite a bit.”

Sephiroth shook his head, and the older First made a questioning sound.

“Do you think the world would be better off without humanity?”

The look Angeal gave him was sympathetic.

“Hojo tortures you.” He said; it wasn’t a question, but a statement. “Shinra allows it. Genesis didn’t tell me-” The dark-haired First said hastily when the silver-haired soldier looked somewhat outraged. “-I can just tell. You...you have all the trappings of someone who was conditioned into service, I’m not judging you for it...it’s just really obvious. That being said, just because a group of people do terrible things doesn’t mean that the entire world is an evil place.” The Commander’s childhood friend grimaced. “I’m part of soldier because I believe in what we stand for, as a military; protectors of the people. But I’m not stupid. I know that Shinra itself isn’t what it tries to paint itself to be.”  
  
“And what’s stopping the rest of humanity from falling in behind them?” Sephiroth said irritably. “What’s stopping that definition from being a universal concept? I don’t see anything different in anyone else.”

 _Now_ Angeal looked concerned.

“Sephiroth…” He said slowly. “Are you...thinking about _killing_ people?”

“I already kill people.” The younger man replied flatly.

“That’s not what I meant.” was the dark-haired soldier’s response, and the expression on his face was clearly disturbed. “And you know it. Are you thinking about killing _innocent people?_ ” The General schooled his face into blankness. Immediately, he knew that was the worst thing he could possibly have done. Angeal recoiled as if he’d struck him, standing abruptly and staring at him like he was someone he didn’t recognize. And-the green-eyed First reflected bitterly-maybe he wasn’t, not anymore. There was silence between them for what felt like an eternity, stretching outwards until the tension seemed like a physical...tangible thing. At length, the blue-eyed soldier swallowed and looked away. “And what about your men?” He said tonelessly. “Are they so inherently _‘evil’?”_

Despairingly, Sephiroth figured he didn’t have anything left to lose. Because while he respected and valued his men...they were still influenceable...still weak to whatever others might will them to do. People were easily given to a group mentality, that much was clear...and he could not sanction that, nor could he lie about sanctioning it.

“The sins of one can become the sins of many...” He replied flatly. “...Given the time.”

Again, Angeal retreated...and again there was the sense of unrepairable distance...of disturbance and fear.

“You should…” The older man paused and appeared to try to gather himself. “You should go home, to your apartment. I’m...I’m going to try to find Genesis.”

Sephiroth didn’t watch as he left; he’d never expected him to understand. Angeal was rooted in honor, in the ingrained dichotomy of right and wrong, nothing the younger man had said to him would make any sense. And when the silver-haired soldier rose to do as the dark-haired First bid, it was with the knowledge that Genesis wouldn’t understand either.

After all...you could only descend so far before you were falling alone.

* * *

_‘...It’s called degradation… your genetic code is unstable....’_

_‘Your hair is going to fall and it’ll probably turn white before you turn forty…’_

_‘We never thought about checking for it… and we certainly wouldn’t have found any results before you entered puberty… if it hadn’t been for your wound, we wouldn’t have figured it out by now…’_

_‘The wound is never going to heal… the scar tissue is going to keep expanding and be inflamed… You will probably end up with dermal issues…’_

_‘Project G… Project Gillian…’_

_‘Skin hardening… Scaly appearance… Thinning skin…’_

_‘You were injected with her cells…’_

_‘Your cells have the ability to be transferred to other humans, to create copies…’_

_‘You’re probably infertile… and it’s not because of the mako…’_

_‘Angeal is also a part of the project, but Gillian is his biological mother… He received the cells directly from her, that’s why he won’t degrade…’_

_‘Dark patches of skin, rashes, light patches… It’s hard to tell until you exhibit the symptoms…’_

_‘You were given them at a much later stage of infancy, that’s why your body is rejecting them…’_

_‘Forties… Early fifties, but that’s just speculation… The rate at which you will degrade is dependant on your physical potential…’_

_‘Your loss of time was probably another symptom of it… After all, your very DNA is unstable…’_

_‘There is no cure…’_

Genesis dry-heaved into the toilet, his whole frame shaking as he retched; the constant pain that had stemmed from his wound in his back encompassing the entirety of his torso at present, throbbing and acute, not helping the wave of nausea that seemed to be his everyday habituality. He felt so cold. His head was exploding with all the information Hollander had fed him earlier that day. He had exited the scientist’s office in the labs in a befuddled stupor only to find himself behind his desk in his office, to a ding of an incoming email while he’d been doing paperwork like nothing had happened at all.

That was when it’d hit him, the severity of those words, everything they entailed. And to make it worse, the email had been from Lazard, telling him that Shinra was sending him to Wutai one last time before putting him aside from field duty.

His whole world had crumbled to pieces… just like the fragments of the simulation after their spar.

In the span of less than six hours, he’d been reduced from a human being, to an experiment… and now he wasn’t even qualified to do his job.

Backing away from the toilet bowl like it had burnt him, the Commander’s back hit the wall as he raised his shaking hands…

All his life had been a lie. All the goals he had pursued were meaningless, because he was just an experiment… something that could be replicated numerous times, because they simply could create copies of him using his cells… No one would notice a difference the day the real Genesis Rhapsodos was dead, because they would already have another one that could replace him.

He was expendable. A puppet that could be thrown away whenever he got too old, or too much of a nuisance.

Bile rose up the back of his throat.

The redhead didn’t want to be. He just wanted to disappear, to have never existed at all. Because this wasn’t what he wanted, this wasn’t who he wanted to be. His fingers were pulling on auburn tresses, every once in a while a short dulling lock yanking free. His whole identity was fake, based on things that were never there to begin with.

Why did this happen to him? Why him?

Suddenly all the abuse his adoptive parents had forced on him made sense. Because he wasn’t normal, he wasn’t even a human. They surely knew this, didn’t they? And what better way to make money but to take care of some freak… some lesser being that he was? Some lesser being Shinra had given away only for Genesis to come crawling back to them, to work for them in SOLDIER, to do their dirty work while they kept ridiculing and belittling him. Never taking him seriously, and of course, they had every right to. It wasn’t like Sephiroth was a failure like him. The silver-haired man was the epitome of perfection.

And what about him? On the brink of destruction. His own body betraying him. Failing him. He was a broken toy. They had used him and used him, and now that he wasn’t of any more service, they were going to get rid of him. Or maybe let his own body do it for them.

And now they were taking everything from him, one by one. It didn’t require a genius to know that soon he’d be deemed too underqualified for doing office work, _too old_ -he thought bitterly-, only to have his resignation papers forced onto him, for them to probably force his hand, literally because no one knew what this _disease_ , this degradation, was going to leave him in the years-... _No, months_ , to come. Genesis wasn’t a fool to think he’d end up being one of those retired starred war veterans living on the same floor as Sephiroth so the President could have them handy whenever he desired. At best, if he was lucky, he’d be allowed to keep his flat in Shinra until they had to substitute him with a stranger bearing his face and his name. At worst, he was going to end up on the streets for them to put a bullet in a dark alley, while the world kept on dreaming. Because he was a loose end, a _liability_.

Anger rose up in him in waves that made him shake. Scrambling to his feet, Genesis traversed the space of his office in less than thirty seconds, returning to the bathroom but with a letter opener in his trembling fingers.

The force with which he was pressing his jaws together made him wonder for a moment if his teeth would crumble to dust… and he was alright with that… Looking at his reflection in the mirror made him feel disgusted, made him want to reach out and claw ugly dark lines in that pale face who was staring back at him, to make those azure eyes flutter closed to never open again.

The mirror cracked, shards lodging themselves between his knuckles as he pushed further and further, gritting his teeth as blood ran down between curled fingers to drip into the sink.

Shinra had used him.

Ever since he was a child.

Shinra had used him.

They had used him, just as they had used Sephiroth. Just as they had used Angeal. Exploiting the General’s protectiveness of him and his childhood friend, and exploiting the raven-haired Commander’s vision of honor and dreams.

And for what? More money. More power to do with other people’s lives as they pleased. To expand their tyranny.

_NO!_

Genesis wasn’t going to let them.

They had taken everything from him. Everything!

His innocence back at Rhapsodos household, that poor redheaded child, always forlorn.

His youth, his dreams and his life in SOLDIER.

His childhood friend… Oh poor Angeal…

_‘My friend, the fates are cruel… there are no dreams, no honor remains…’_

The letter opener clattered down into the porcelain bowl in front of him, a sharp gasp escaping him as he doubled over, clutching his shirt over his heart. The raven-haired First was going to be devastated if he knew what his mother had done… If he knew that he was nothing but an experiment…

And then, they had taken Sephiroth from him.

It made him want to stab that knife inside his chest, to imbed it deep until it no longer beat.

The General was never going to look at him the same way if he knew… If he knew how pitiful and pathetic he was. If he knew, that all along, he’d been right. That Genesis was indeed, below him.

_‘How does it feel, I wonder?... To be in love with someone so utterly superior to yourself?’_

That was when he cut himself for the first time. Because Rebecca had been right all along.

_‘Look at what a good dog he is… You could learn a thing or two from him, Commander.’_

And then he cut again and again… And it actually made him feel better… it made him think clearly for the first time during the past couple of days… made him feel numb.

If Shinra took everything from him, he wasn’t going to stand around and let them.

Genesis would take everything from them. He would take from them whatever he’d given during the past ten years.

If they thought, for one second, that they could get rid of him that easily, they were mistaken. If they thought they could put him down, the redhead was going to drag them under with himself.

He would become the very monster they’d made him to be. Something they would, they _should_ be afraid of.

If they thought they could erase his name from history, the Commander would make sure no Shinra was standing by the time he was gone.

Staring at the broken Genesis Rhapsodos in the mirror, he could see nothing. Those eyes, that expression was hollow, dead. Today would be the day that he died. The day that little boy inside him, the redhead slayed with the same letter opener that was lying in the bloodied sink; the little boy he buried under the black infertile soil of hatred and rage with his own hands.

He was simply no more.

He only needed to convince his friends to turn against Shinra with him.

Angeal would never do it. His childhood friend was simply too instilled in his opinion and visions about SOLDIER. He was too honorable. He still hadn’t seen this ugly side of Shinra… the very same side Sephiroth had shown him that day.

The most bizarre of smiles curled on his lips, crooked and ugly and wholly unfamiliar.

So he ignored the burning sensation in his forearms as he pulled on his coat. He ignored how the fabric caught on the slowly healing gashes only to rip them open again. He ignored the trickle of blood, how it soaked through his leathers as he stood there inside the elevator, ignored that right before the doors were closed Angeal stepped out of the other one, probably going to meet him in his office; but the redhead was already gone.

Genesis was going to have a word with his lover.

* * *

Sephiroth was staring at the wall holding a bottle of vodka and reciting prime numbers when someone knocked on his apartment door.

Realistically, this was not a healthy way to exist. But he couldn’t concentrate on paperwork, and if he couldn’t do that he needed to concentrate on something else to keep himself from doing something extremely regrettable. His conversation with Angeal didn’t help at all; it had only brought to the forefront the singular truth that he was painfully, bizarrely different from other people. And now that difference was highlighted in the fact that he was fantasizing about mindless homicide. Because apparently he didn’t trust anyone in the slightest, save for two people. Not in a positive sense of reliance in any case. And now one of those two people he’d either driven away or forced into some sort of preventative action. In some aspects of consideration, Sephiroth was relieved, because now it was out of his hands.

The knocking increased in urgency.

Standing, the General acknowledged that his apartment was a mess. Looking around, he resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn’t be able to clean everything up before he allowed his guest in. Genesis hadn’t been to stay since their fallout over Hojo’s treatment of him, and the green-eyed First just hadn’t been motivated enough to clean anything. It wasn’t _horrendously_ messy by any means; it certainly wasn’t anywhere near the everyday standards of the cadet barracks, but it was horrendous in terms of his personal parameters of sterility. The floor hadn’t been swept in days and there were several empty assorted water bottles sitting on the coffee table next to his couch; two equally bereft takeout containers were resting on the TV stand and at some point he must have taken off a pair of socks and left them next to his favorite armchair. Crumbs of various questionable nature were scattered here and there on the dining room table, and he’d apparently left a shirt lying in the hallway. Staring at it, Sephiroth vaguely remembered being so drunk he’d fallen asleep somewhere between the living room and the bedroom. Though obviously not so drunk that he couldn’t halfway undress himself and hook the bottle of whiskey he’d been drinking over the door jam.

Swiping the crumbs off the table on his way to the entry, the silver-haired soldier paused for a minute before punching in the access code and turning the knob, stepping back as he did so. He’d been somewhat expecting Genesis. After all, no one but Genesis was willing to knock so loudly and insistently on any door in his possession. He was _not_ expecting a Genesis dripping blood onto the carpeting in the hallway and looking equally if not more crazy than he felt at the current moment. They stood there for a moment, looking at each other, and the younger man was struck with a wild sort of deranged kinship before he sprang into action. Moving quickly, Sephiroth yanked the scarlet-haired soldier inside and dragged him to his dusty couch before disappearing into the bathroom for a towel. When he returned, he was somewhat surprised to see the Commander sitting where he’d left him looking somewhat piqued but mostly morose and unstable.

“Show me.” He snapped.

Genesis stood up, his expression blank save for the macabre ghost of a smile that was bleeding on his lips. Closing the distance between them, those long fingers plucked the towel from his, the white quickly absorbing the carmine before it was tossed somewhere forgotten. Sephiroth raised an elegant eyebrow, moved to get another one before a hand clasped his wrist.

“You wanted to see, so just watch.” was the hollow whisper. Underneath was a faint vein of challenge, but it was different from how the redhead often played his games. It felt more serious. There was something else, some other emotion, dark and ugly and twisted; familiar and yet foreign in its severity. Could it be the very self-loathing he’d been struggling with?

Azure eyes were following his follow the Commander’s movements as he took off his gloves, revealing the broken skin of his fellow First’s knuckles. There was a slight wince, a sharp intake of breath as the red leather coat cascaded over pale shoulders to the ground, and Genesis was walking backwards; the harness belt followed next and then the double belts, the boots, the pants, the black sleeveless turtleneck, ruined bandages, and Sephiroth just couldn’t tear his gaze away from how the crimson viscous liquid dripping down the older man’s forearms contrasted vividly with his pale skin. They were covered in random thin dark gashes, some slowly healing, much slower than a First Class should.

“Do you like what you see?” An auburn head was tilted to one side, his expression as hollow as his voice.

Logistically, the green-eyed First knew that he should be asking _why_ those cuts were there and not clinically observing the way they were and weren’t necessarily healing. But he knew that both of them knew why they were there...or at least who had put them there. It seemed pointless and insensitive to ask ‘what happened?’, because Genesis was obviously distraught, his mood was over the line of macabre and bordering on dangerously dark. The younger man couldn’t imagine what could have caused him to self-harm, but there was a part of him virulently against it. He didn’t have any place to criticize, however, because only a few days ago he’d considered putting himself out of his misery to avoid the violent thoughts that were constantly circulating in his subconscious. Bowing his head, Sephiroth clenched his jaw; lifted the towel and pressed it to the gashes with more care and tenderness than he was currently feeling.

“No.” He said flatly. “I don’t.”

It took a few minutes for the flow to slow and coagulate. During that time, neither of them spoke. There was a rift between them-the General acknowledged-something borne from their time apart. Or maybe it was just a pre herald of worse things to come...of all the virulent events that followed them like a plague. It seemed as if the Universe was determined to give them naught but bitter fruit as the results of their toil. Whether mitigated by their own mental catalysts or by other, external factors entirely out of their control. When Sephiroth was satisfied that the Commander was not going to bleed all over his couch, he stood and took the towel; dithering for a moment between hallway and kitchen before growling under his breath and throwing the crimson-soaked item in the trash bin and heading to closet to retrieve his first aid kit. It was pointless-he knew-to pander to someone hell bent on self-flagellation, but he was evidently incapable of thinking of Genesis as anything but incomprehensibly precious and valuable.

Upon his return, the man in question took one look at the kit and called Sephiroth something off-color and not worth repeating in good company. The silver-haired soldier ignored it; instead kneeling once more before fetching a bottle of antibacterial spray and applying it liberally. The blue-eyed First allowed it for whatever reason he didn't care to guess, and merely offered him an inglorious sneer when the General wrapped the offending appendage in gauze before throwing the kit to the side and staring at his fellow First with something that felt like exasperation. When Genesis was not forthcoming, the green-eyed First snorted in disgust and got up to retrieve the vodka he'd been drinking; taking a swig before sitting down on the coffee table across from him, speaking as he did so.

“Why?”

It seemed like the man sitting in front of him crumbled… turned into dust and vanished with a nonexistent breeze. But then again, there was Genesis, sitting in front of him, and it wasn’t quite like the Genesis he knew. There was something lacking, missing even; but what, Sephiroth couldn’t tell.

“I’m dying.” The Commander said flatly, like he was talking about the weather. “The wound’s not going to heal. It’s going to get worse.” His blue eyes weren’t looking at him, fixed on the bottle of liquor in his hands as he continued, and suddenly there it was; shining through the broken facets of the man sitting on his couch, his Genesis, that brilliance, the _dying_ flames. “Sephiroth, Shinra is a tyranny… the war with Wutai… they were using us, using you. If they win, there will be no escaping them…” Those cold long fingers plucked the bottle away, curling around both his hands as the scarlet-haired First drew closer. “We won’t be able to be free.” Now, the older man was looking at him, something dark swirling in those cerulean lakes. “I don’t have much time left.” There was the silent, omitted request.

_Come with me._

Because Genesis Rhapsodos was a prideful creature. But that singular fact paled in the face of the truth that the redhead was _dying._ And Sephiroth didn't know what to do with that information. A part of him shivered... somewhere hidden and desperate and lonely. And that singular facet of him grew until it rose up to grip him by the throat; to force terror over his synapses like a thick black necrosis threatening to choke everything it touched. It spilled hot and acrid over his tongue...forced itself from his lips in the form of a gasp before he could swallow it down. Like phantoms in his cerebral cortex... recollections of the man before him rose to hover in his synapses; firing between neurons like memoritory ghosts.

Genesis laughing at something he'd said, sitting in the back of a truck on the way to Banora...his pack slung over his shoulder and his hair fluttering in the breeze. Genesis in the morning; sleepy, soft, and yet somehow magnificent wrapped in bedsheets...the soft lines around his eyes crinkling as he smiled and leaned forward to nuzzle into Sephiroth's neck. Genesis arching into his touch; yards of pale pearlescent skin dappled by moonlight as they kissed long, slow and deep under the stars. A voice like velvet in his ear, fingers like molten brands; all fire and passion and something utterly, singularly _Genesis._ Red leather and coffee and laughter that caused that little place in his soul to shiver with an emotion so strong it left him breathless. Genesis had taught him _love_ and everything Sephiroth knew himself to be...that good part of him was anchored in the man before him. And now he was dying.

_No._

Dimly, he was aware of the fact that he had gone utterly still, that he didn't know the expression on his face anymore...that his mental process had taken him away from the awareness of what his visage could present. But there _had_ to be a solution; had to be something he could do to prevent this because if what the redhead was saying would happen came to pass then he would have absolutely no reason to hang onto himself anymore. Sephiroth would _give_ himself to the darkness coagulating his thoughts; hurl himself into an insidious abyss in order to forget. And a part of him was fully aware that this type of mindset was unhealthy...that he couldn't put so much emotional pressure on one person alone. But he couldn't _give up._

Where had they gone wrong?

The grief that encroached upon him with that singular desperate thought was enough to flatten him; to leave him psychically crippled and mentally bleeding. When had they gone from the warm, safe haven that was their love to this empty, joyless place? When had Genesis stopped smiling? When had Sephiroth stopped _noticing?_ When had they mutated from something beautiful to something fading...like the slow death of a white dwarf in the depths of the cosmos? When had he stopped touching the redhead...reaching for him to bury himself...to curl into every facet of that fiery warmth to find solace and _quiet?_ When had he decided that he was alone...that neither of them cared?

“You're not dying.” Sephiroth whispered. “You _can't_ die.” He put a hand to his face, let the fingers splay wide; pale and trembling and desperate...ignored the fall of hair over his shoulder. His eyes felt like they had frozen...turned into wide, horror-struck mockeries of the calm he so virulently tried to display. “If you die... _I_ die.”

There was a sharp gasp, and Genesis jerked back in his seat; cerulean irises darting away toward the short corridor leading to his bedroom as those cerise lips curled downwards. A strangled sound rose up the pale column he’d kissed countless times as the older man drew up his legs, all fluid motion and then those long fingers that could do so many things clasped around them. His lover seemed to be trying to shrink and shrivel in front of his eyes, curling in on himself into something small. “ _Ashayam_ , the fates are cruel…” The redhead’s melodious voice was shaking, the words fraying at the seams, the imagery he painted, black and bleak. “There is no cure…” A tremor shook the Commander’s shoulder, and Sephiroth could see the wound that was almost reaching his partner’s spine, ugly and insidious like the angry stroke of a brush against the pale canvas of his lover’s physicality.

The smell of saline hit his senses, of those azure oceans spilling over coppery framed shores, and it should have been impossible, but the redhead somehow managed to curl in on himself even further, trembling hands coming up to cover his face, to clasp over those sanguine lips not to let any sound pass through. And the silver-haired man was at a loss on what to do. It was like he had frozen, the frigid claws of despair clutching his heart only to pump shards of ice in his veins. He watched with emerald glaciers as those slender digits that used to tangle in his hair, that used to brush soothing patterns against his scalp, got lost in the thatch of red tresses, and there was something wrong; because Genesis’ hair was brilliant, rivaling the rays of the sun, radiant with a fiery glow… Now, it seemed the fire was gone, and why was his hair falling so easily…

 _No, Genesis...stop._ He wanted to say, to reach forward and loosen the vice-like grip, and then there it was… This time, he did move; catching it as it was making its slow descent to the ground.

The color of snow, the color of those pearlescent teeth when they bit down on the perfect bow of those luxurious lips in the throes of pleasure and pain...

A strand of his lover’s hair.

A logical part of him whispered that there was no need to panic, but it was so faint and faraway… Horror seized him once more, because _this_ , this seemingly harmless object that was offending him, that was taking away from the integrity of his lover’s perfection, of his youth, seemed like the last nail in the coffin… cementing the fact that he was indeed fading away.

A multitude of questions rushed up inside him, because _when did he stop noticing?_ When did they stop waking up beside each other, so that maybe he could have been there when Genesis discovered the first white strand of hair? So that maybe, just maybe, Sephiroth could’ve told him that it wasn’t his, to lull him back to sleep, to hold him in his arms and never let go?

He had been so lost in the foreign maze of his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed when his hand holding that sacrilege had balled into a fist; that the redhead was no longer sitting there in front of him.

There was the sound of something tearing, the smell of blood and the sound of Genesis’ scream from that day in the VR room followed by a loud slam that jarred him out of his reverie.

Ebony. Too much of it. Slick with a ghastly sheen of mako-infused blood. Dripping with it on the floor in the middle of his living room. And under it all, the ivory of a lithe body, on all fours and wracked with tremors that coursed through it.

A fallen angel.

That was the first thing that came to Sephiroth’s mind as he approached...slow and disbelieving and yet at the same time cognizant of his _fascination._ Because never before had he seen a mutation that manifested wings. Rather, _a_ wing...but a wing nevertheless. And really, it couldn’t be called a mutation; he was more inclined to think of it as a transformation. If anyone was worthy of wings...it was the man currently huddled on the floor. Letting the strand of ivory hair fall from his fingers, the General knelt...heedless of the blood as it sank into his leathers...coagulated at his fingertips and ran in warm onyx-crimson funnels down his radial nerve to pool at the crease behind his elbows. His hair dragged in it….caught in the degradative mess that was fast becoming the individual before him. Vaguely, the silver-haired soldier was aware that he should be concerned, that this was anything but good but he couldn't tear himself away. Something in him stirred to the ingress of the aviatory manifestation, a shudder...like the ache of vague muscle memory lost in the depths of his mind.

 _Touch,_ and his hands were sliding through the median, primary, and greater coverts….fingers grasping trembling tertiers to glide across hollow calamus and revel between tufty down. Black as midnight...darker than the deepest of caves; massive and powerful and magnificent and the sound that left Sephiroth’s lips was something foreign...something ravenously instinctual borne from under the dregs of his consciousness. His fellow First was still shivering...still bloody and clothless and seemingly disoriented under the shadow of his wing. This fact seemed to pale under a primordial urge to touch more...to bury his face in pinions and breathe deep of something that was entirely alien and yet somehow still familiar...somehow still Genesis. Dimly, Sephiroth knew this was not the right approach, but he couldn’t concentrate on that in the face of so much beauty...in the face of noir emargination and sweeping vane...in the face of pale, crimson-streaked skin and the warmth of another body and he was _so hungry._ Not in the sense of the desire to consume but the desire to claim.

So when the General lifted himself up to press his hands against the slope at the base of the scarlet-haired soldier’s spine...he wasn’t really thinking. Wasn’t really thinking when he placed his lips, hot and open-mouthed over the nape of a neck doused in cold sweat. Wasn’t thinking when he settled overtop of the prone body before him and a growl rose up in his throat that he didn’t particularly recognize. Because Genesis was not going to _die,_ and he was not going to _leave._ His right hand abandoned its post to tangle in black feathers...to trace pennaceous barbs and grasp directly at quills, not hard enough to rip but hard enough to feel them give under digits consumed in a stupeficious haze. The older man had gone utterly still beneath him, and Sephiroth could sense his rage, his despair, his _disgust._ But enough was enough, this was not going to change anything...this was not going to separate them. Lifting his head, the silver-haired First tilted his chin somewhat; till he could bring his lips to the shell of a flushed ear...his lips curling into a possessive sneer.

“You’re not going _anywhere._ ”

**Sephiroth**

| 

**Genesis**  
  
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The body below him shifted somewhat, that head of scarlet hair auscultating as the older man attempted to look at him. Some part of Sephiroth shied away from it...rejected it even as it became apparent that the blue-eyed First was desperate to connect with him in some way, shape, or form. He couldn’t allow it, couldn’t concentrate on it in the face of what was happening. And the movement only served to inflame him...to stoke the slow-kindling desire that was quickly becoming a blaze underneath his skin. And he _wanted_ Genesis to want him...to give himself to him as he had so many times before.

The tattered broken remnants of the man he was trying to hold onto rejected what he was doing. Violently. The green-eyed soldier knew this was wrong on so many levels. It was more than wrong, it was _heinous._ But the supplication for him to follow...for him to leave everything he’d ever known to tail blindly into some sort of abyss was something Sephiroth couldn’t do. Because if they left they might never find a cure, he might never be able to make things right. Those long, long fingers tangled in his hair...tender...supplicative like they had so many times before and the darkness in him de-coagulated somewhat...shot through with everything they used to be and for a moment the silver-haired soldier could _breathe_ again. And in that breath was the culmination of everything they were...what they had made themselves to be.

_“I love you.”_

That single, simplistic and yet deeply relevant statement was like being stabbed in the chest. In that velvety, somnolent voice...full of musicality and emotion...it tore at the General’s psyche and left him fragile, gasping at the weight of it. Because he had waited, and waited, and _waited_ to hear Genesis say those words. And now he was _using_ them to gain his acquiescence. To garner his obeisance like so many had used flattery and guile to attempt to manipulate him before. Sephiroth nearly collapsed as his legs trembled-threatened to give out-before he found some type of physical ground. And it _hurt..._ it hurt more than anything else the older man could have said because it was said at the _wrong time,_ in the wrong circumstances in the wrong place. Some part of him shriveled and died with it...with the false statement born from soft cerise lips...devastating in their acuity. Gritting his teeth, the silver-haired soldier bowed his head...closed his eyes as he rested it on the nape of a trembling neck and fought tears.

“You don’t mean it.” He said brokenly. Rage rose up to choke him, wrought with a black sort of indignance at being brought so low before someone who claimed only to want to be his equal. Snarling, he jerked upwards only to roughly thread his fingers through scarlet hair and pull until the redhead gasped and rose with his grip. _“You don’t mean it!”_

The older man acquiesced to his grasp and some part of Sephiroth hearkened to it...revelled in the control he could garner. Because this, _this_ was the only thing he had left...the ability to dominate, to take. If he was going to lose the individual currently arched against him, he was going to lose him thoroughly, without any hope of reconciliation.

But Genesis was still talking.

And as angry as Sephiroth was, there was still a part of him that resonated deeply with what he was saying...that _ached_ to accept his words as a verity. Loosening his grip on that fiery hair, the green-eyed soldier closed his eyes and shuddered...letting his fingers slide down the apex of a trembling throat; hovering over pulse points before resting against that soft hollow before the sternum. Leaning backwards somewhat, he pressed his cheek against the side of that scarlet head of crimson locks...trying desperately to reign in his rage even as it threatened to overtake him entirely.

The wing between them made it somewhat awkward, but it was no less a part of the man before him. Bitterly, the silver-haired First acknowledged that the alcohol was not helping him in the least. If he’d known Genesis was coming he’d have at least waited until he arrived to partake...but his conscious and _conscience_ was undeniably altered by how much he’d imbibed, and he was reluctant to rationalize anything he was doing at the moment because of it.

_“And how I love thee, beyo-”_

“-Stop it.” He muttered fiercely. “Just, _stop it.”_

He let the hand that was resting at the apex where sternum met throat descend...ghosting downwards until it was grasping the jut of a hip. That black desire rose in him again and the younger man clenched his jaw and shook his head...though at whom he didn’t know. Only that he couldn’t do this...couldn’t keep this closeness without giving in to something irreparable. But the pale alabaster of Genesis’ skin was an irresistible visual pull, as was the soft, almost indiscernible thump of his pulse...just beneath the surface of his epidermis. Sephiroth shuddered again and tried to pull away...tried to center himself but barely made it an inch before he was yanking the Commander back; burrowing his head in the furrow beneath his jaw and inhaling hungrily.

“Don’t do this.” He pleaded. “Don’t go.” 

The agonized exclamation that left the redhead’s mouth seemed to shiver down to his soul...like the softest of sighs in a tempest of confusion and torture. Sephiroth’s mind couldn’t conscience it, couldn’t make sense of why the blue-eyed soldier would be equally wounded. After all, it was _Genesis_ who was making the decision to leave...to leave Shinra, to leave everything he’d worked so hard to earn...to leave _him._ He didn’t deserve to act like this hurt him because he was the one _causing_ it.

When the older man broke free and ran it was practically automatic to give chase. Sephiroth lunged upward only to nearly slip in the pool of black and crimson blood that had slowly coagulated underneath them. It made the carpet stiff; sticky yet oleaginous. The bedroom door slammed shut and it was only when his fist was inches away from it that Sephiroth stopped and reexamined his options. He could break down the barrier standing between him and the distraught redhead, but it wouldn’t do him any good. Part of him needed the blue-eyed First to acquiesce...for now...though he couldn’t say why. Only that the darkness that rose up in him this time was different; more deceptive, more calculating, less incognizant. Leaning against the doorframe, listening to the rapid, panicked breaths behind it, the silver-haired soldier smiled...but it was a predatory smile, not a pleasant smile.

“Genesis” he murmured, pitching his voice so it was pleading and supplicative. “Please, let’s talk about this.”

The staccato, abbreviated exhalations hitched somewhat...and the tell-tale heartbeat slowed to a certain degree. The green-eyed soldier pressed his forehead against solid wood...giving the illusion of desired nearness as he let his hand slide down the unforgiving surface.

“Please, I love you. I don’t understand; help me to understand.”

It took a few minutes.

Several, long, agonizing minutes in which the silver-haired soldier’s rage seemed to burgeon and grow...shoving back the deceptive, logical presence that had taken control of the forefront of his mind. It was _torture_ to wait...to anticipate that which would come afterwards. And some figment of him had resigned himself to the inevitable...to forward motion in the face of irresistible urge. So when Genesis opened the door, the hungry, predatory smile on his face widened somewhat...just as sapphire blue eyes did the same; only in horror...not in a savage satisfaction. The despair in the redhead’s visage only spurred him onwards, because how _dare_ he?!

Without thought, the younger man grasped that familiar, slender but well-muscled waist; hoisting his fellow First upward before hurling him towards the bed. The Commander yelped...though the sound was anything but humorous. All the air exploded from Genesis’ lungs when he hit the mattress; released in a satisfying, cumulative huff as the man lay there eagle-spread and staring at the ceiling like he couldn’t exactly believe that this was happening to him. Sephiroth’s grin stretched further.

Oh, but it _was._

That bright, logical part of him died with a last, desperate and pleading gasp and all that was left was grief, madness, rage, indignation, and despair. The General snarled as he tugged off his shirt and strode forward. Seeming to come to his senses, the redhead sat up and scrambled towards the headboard, blue irises fully visible in his disbelief of what was unfolding before him. The older man appeared to watch as if in the throes of a nightmare as Sephiroth tugged off his pants in quick succession with his top; throwing it to the side and continuing on. When his legs hit the edge of the bed the scarlet-haired man closed his eyes, crimson brows knitting together and his teeth sinking into his lower lip as if his heart was _breaking._

What rubbish.

Sephiroth slunk forward; sinuous and pale in the low light of the room; the mattress dipping upon his approach even as Genesis attempted to get further away only to hit the headboard with a kind of numb and startled shock. His wing curled around him reflexively, and it was a tantalizing...tenuous shield...black feathers brushing the creamy flexure of tension-filled thighs. When he was close enough, the silver-haired soldier leaned forward, the fall of platinum locks brushing the arch of a foot as their gazes met and held.

“You say you’re going.” Sephiroth purred, his voice insidiously pleasant. Reaching out, he grasped a slender ankle. “Well,” He growled. “Let me give you a proper _send off.”_

And then he lurched forward and brought cold, unresponsive lips to his own furious and desperate ones. For a minute, it seemed like Genesis might respond. Something in his chest relaxed at the thought...because maybe _this_ was how he could get the older man to listen to him...to get him to stay. It made sense really, the redhead was a physical individual...so if he needed a physical reason to remain, the silver-haired soldier could certainly give him that. When the scarlet-haired First went tentative and still beneath him, Sephiroth took it as an invitation; softening his grip and nipping supplicatively at the pout of an immobile lower lip.

Then, abruptly, strong hands were pushing at his shoulders...shoving him away as Genesis made a low growling noise in his throat...demanded what was wrong with him. Hands were creating shackles of his wrists...he was inorexibly forced upwards and flipped onto his back as the older man trapped his legs between his own. That dark, primal part of him answered to it, made him arch into it and fight against the hold keeping him so masterfully pinned. But the redhead was equally as familiar with his physicality as he was with the older man’s, and while pain flashed across familiar features...his hold was solid. Breathing harshly, frustrated, Sephiroth gave up for a moment and glared resolutely at the ceiling.

Here, in a submissive position that crawling blackness was less virulent. He was able to think through it and feel horrified at his actions on a vague...blurry sort of level. The eyes burning into his own were angry, yes, but they were also filled with _pain_ and disbelief. The grief that rose up within him at the realization was nearly enough to make him weep, because _what was he doing?_ Was he trying to kill Genesis?! Because if he continued down this path...that was all that was going to happen. Genesis would never consent to this...no matter how broken or upset or despairing he was feeling. Sephiroth made a low, inchoate noise suffused with sorrow and squeezed his lids shut, turning his face away to press his cheek against the pillows.

“If you leave,” He said dully. “I’m going to die. Whatever’s left that’s good in me is going to die, and I’m going to be what you’ve seen.” He took a deep shuddering breath. “I don’t know how to stop it anymore.” The silver-haired soldier gritted his teeth and fought the black tide as it rose up again in his mind. “I can’t control it anymore.”

The errant, tender touch of the redhead’s forehead against his own was furthermore harrowing. Those whispered words...fluid, quiet and fond; featherweight against the shell of his ear. Beseeching...Genesis was _beseeching_ his acquiescence and there was so much that was wrong with that. Because Genesis shouldn’t have to beg him for anything. As far as Sephiroth was concerned, he should fold at the Commander’s slightest whim, should place the stars at his feet if he so willed it.

_‘Ashayam..’_

He’d never asked him what those words meant, and now the silver-haired man couldn’t, wouldn’t. He didn’t have a right because he was not _going_ with him, was not going to follow him down this path to ruin. Shinra would hunt them until they dropped dead of exhaustion, until Gaia crumbled into the stars and space took its place. There would be no rest and no reprieve upon desertion...no peace for them to seek. At the same time, the younger man acknowledged that by staying he was still leaving...a part of him was leaving that was likely never to return.

And so because he could not go, and because he could not stay, Sephiroth tilted his head, grasped Genesis chin and drew him in for a kiss that was gentler, softer, and more loving than the last. It was both an apology and a goodbye all in one. It was a question and an answered question….a beginning and an end. And if his heart shattered into a million pieces by doing it...so be it. At least he wouldn’t be alone, at least this small part of him could go with the older man...the part that he could remember. Sephiroth could break when Genesis was gone, he couldn't break now. Not now, when the redhead was already breaking enough himself.

His fellow First responded hesitatingly, then with slightly more enthusiasm when he saw that the silver-haired soldier wasn’t going to force him into it. Sephiroth shuddered and gave himself to it, to the exchange of lips and tongue as his fingers tangled in endless crimson hair...as his other hand traced the upper edge of that great, black wing. When Genesis pulled away Sephiroth cupped his face, peppered kisses over pale eyelids until the grief that was slowly rising in a tempest behind his eyes threatened to overcome him. Burying his face in the crook of a graceful alabaster neck the General squeezed his eyes shut and tried to reign in his emotions.

“I can’t.” He whispered.

It seemed...for a few melancholy heartstopping moments that the older man was going to let him get his way. Genesis melted into him, returned his kisses with equal fervor. Those warm, desirous lips were moist and prurient against his; opening to the advance of his tongue as if desperate to memorize the taste of him. Sephiroth exhaled raggedly, chased that heady mouth until he was dizzy with it…’till the musk of the man above him nearly erased the truth of what was happening...of what _had_ to happen.

And then the moment ended.

Genesis grew cold and stiff above him. That lithe body drew away even as the green-eyed soldier tried to lure it back, rolling his hips in a desperate sort of way he would never consider doing unless he was wrought for distraction….for avoidance of the truth. The redhead was having none of it, large hands pushed him flat as emotionless sapphire eyes morphed into irises of howling rage and resentment. Those beautiful lips curled into a sneer and that horrible, dark part of him he'd managed to push away came tearing back. Sephiroth fought it, because he _knew_ what would happen if he gave in, if he allowed it total control. It slavered inside of him, thoughtless and stupid and _irresistible._

_‘How could you??’_

The growl that rose from the General's throat was involuntary, riding the wings of a disbelieving sort of incredulity. Because _'how could he?’_ ** _He_** was not the one turning tail and fleeing the reality of the situation, he was not the one abandoning his men, his friend, and his lover because he _could not face death_. He was not the one tearing the world they had made together like a wasted, worthless tapestry for no better reason than he was afraid of his mortality, because he didn't want to look for a cure, because he did not believe in Sephiroth's aebility to protect him

_‘My friend...why do you fly away?’_

Red. Everything was scarlet and fire and he was going to be _alone._ And if the man before him wasn't willing to let him go peacefully, then he was going to show him the _agony_ that was his abandonment. Dimly, the silver-haired First was aware of the fact that he had tossed Genesis off of him; that he had thrown the older man to the mattress only to climb over him...dig his fingers into alabaster thighs and pull them apart. He kept a hand flat against that powerful chest as his nails dug into the musculature of smooth flanks, pulled physicality apart as he settled between; as he relinquished his grip to slap away the hand that scrabbled forward to hit him. And he felt some sort of powerful indignance over the fact that Genesis didn't beg him to stop, that he didn't cry out or plead for his egress. And when Sephiroth briefly spat into his hand to ease the way-for himself, not for the other-the Commander merely struggled harder, a snarl marring that beautiful face. Close, closer...he was so _close_ and he loosened his grip somewhat to line himself up and-

-Sephiroth was thrown onto the floor.

For maybe a second he lay there wondering what the hell he was doing. Then there was the sound of a body moving, of sheets being thrown to the floor and the rush of bare feet. The silver-haired soldier surged upwards, lunged forward to sink his fingers into soft plumage and _pull_. Genesis made a noise that was half shock and half defeat as he reeled, as his body moved inexorably with the attached appendage before crashing to the floor. Those sapphire irises grew cloudy and confused and some clinical part of Sephiroth muttered _‘concussion’_ before he dropped to join him.

He was easier to move without the give of the bed and the younger man flipped him with ease. Genesis tried to rise and he pushed him back down heedlessly, carelessly. That fiery head of hair jerked to avoid virulent contact with the carpet but Sephiroth ignored it in favor of pursuing his original goal; to make the older man feel the pain he was feeling. To leave a black, necrotic stain on his psyche darker than anything whatever he was _dying_ from could leave. Vaguely he was aware of the fact that the redhead was still struggling, but he was very obviously tired. The Commander was strong but he was far stronger…had far more stamina.

_More touch_...the drag of unprepared flesh...the soft whine of pain behind clenched teeth and they were unraveling. Coming apart at the seams in a sea of despair and violation and grief. A scarlet head pressed into the hardwood, neck trembling with the effort it took to suppress the noises that wanted to escape. Pale, slender fingers scrabbling for purchase as lust pounded in his ears, as purpose drove him forward again and again. Genesis’ shoulder was slammed against a leg of the bed and the frame shuddered. The younger man dragged him away and he was limp like a ragdoll... unresisting and glassy-eyed.

“ _You did this._ ” Sephiroth hissed, wrapping his fingers around the once-proud arch of a throat and squeezing.

It was impossible to tell how long it lasted. That crimson arc of something that was nothing but primal glut...that noir possessiveness spiraling out into a horror-struck eternity. The point of no return...the end of all ends and _release._ The General's hip jerked and Genesis _did_ sob... something broken and hopeless that sounded like his name and a curse at the same time. The pinnacle of pleasure receded from his physicality and blood was running from Sephiroth's nose to his chin; copper flooding his taste buds as darkness flooded the corners of his vision. The silver-haired First swayed, choked as his eyes rolled back. His last thought was _‘No’_ before consciousness failed him; he hit the floor to the left of his victim and did not move.

| 

Pushing through the pain that was slowly receding in its acuity but present nonetheless, Genesis tilted his head so he could try and catch a glimpse of those emerald eyes that he knew he wasn’t going to recognize. Inside him, a still hopeful part of him was reassuring him that -under the darkness that seemed to expand from his own back and higher still, flowing into the silver-haired man pressed against him, only to extend into yet another monstrosity of an incorporeal wing that shrouded the entire room- there was still Sephiroth somewhere. The Sephiroth he knew. But hope was a dangerous thing. And yet, the redhead had promised, that he wasn’t going anywhere, so here he was, and here they were.

But _this_ , this wasn’t what he wanted. This wasn’t what they wanted.

“Come with me… please.” Suddenly the image of the silver-haired man crouching inside solitary confinement flashed in front of his eyes; how the Commander had asked him, and the younger First had complied. Reaching behind him with one hand, his fingers tangled in the silky waterfall of his lover’s hair, drawing mindless patterns as he let his eyes flutter closed, as Genesis tried to breathe him in… tried to find the man he’d come to love, desperately.

“I love you.” And it was with every facet of his broken soul that he whispered, soothingly, gently, like the zephyrs that danced between them in Banora, bringing the unmistakable scent of dumbapples; drawing on the flimsy flame still burning inside him. It was his final plea… because if Sephiroth rejected him, because if the silver-haired man didn’t love him then everything could as well have been over… Genesis tried, desperately, to ignore the insidious whisper at the back of his head that was asking why Shinra’s finest would love a wrecked monster and a failure like him.

The sudden short passage of air made him relax somewhat; the warmth and heaviness of his lover’s body pressing against him as Sephiroth sagged for a moment. Genesis closed his eyes, letting his own head hang limply; the arm supporting their joint weight trembling slightly with the effort, but he didn’t care how long they were going to stay this way. Minutes, hours, days, he would stay, because he’d missed this. If he could, he’d trap this memory in yet another broken facet of his psyche to come back to as days wore on.

How long had it been since the last time they were this close to each other? Goddess, he had missed this. The tiniest hint of smiles tugged on a corner of his lips, but his mirth was short lived as Sephiroth stilled on top of him. And it felt like the presence that had just resurfaced with the redhead out of the depths of this black abyss was yanked through his very fingertips, pulled under wave after wave of suppuration that suddenly opened up between them like an infested wound.

_“You don’t mean it.”_

And Genesis wanted to cry bloody tears… He wanted to carve out his heart and give it to the silver-haired man, so he could believe it. Because this was the same man who had told him in that spar an eternity ago, that the redhead focused entirely too much on literal definition…

_“You don’t mean it!”_

And the Commander went with the hand that pulled him up on his knees, his back arching somewhat to accommodate the abominable appendage at his back, as he sought those brilliant eyes with his own.

“I’ve told you before countless times, it seems you simply weren’t _listening_.” Genesis whispered bitterly. “ _K'diwa_ , lest you forget; freefall is not beyond measurement; and we are not alone in the essence of eternity. But I would catch the sunlight of the most distant body, to keep your heart. And how I love thee, beyo-....”

It was hard not to give himself over to the burning touch trailing down his torso to settle right below his heart. It was hard not to mirror the shudder that ran down the younger man’s body behind him. That thing hanging limply from his back was probably leaving carmine trails on the floor of Sephiroth’s quarters; the very same blood that had been running down his back, that had slowed down into a lazy ooze that made him shiver every once in a while.

Hide and seek.

They were playing. Because the silver-haired man kept disappearing under currents of rage and despair only to reemerge gentle and affectionate, and then again, he was gone in a gust of wind that threatened to smother the flimsy flame still kindling inside him.

So when the deep velvety voice rang out, sharp and biting, it was like a slap to his face, like a stab to his gut. And Genesis wanted to echo those words, to beg for the General to stop it, _stop it_ , stop torturing him, stop dragging them to the gateways of heaven only to toss them back into the hellish flames of hell.

But he didn’t.

The redhead wanted to double over himself, to curl into a small pathetic pitiful thing and just disappear… Because now, the General too, knew that he was a monster… That wing… It was like the physical manifestation of his nonexistent soul, the void that had been gaping inside him before Sephiroth had made him realize Genesis Rhapsodos, too, had a heart. But now, his companion was pulling it out, yanking it free, bloodied and still beating… What happened to all those images they had conjured… _No._ The older man ameliorated. _He_ had conjured of their possible future? Of the bridges that used to connect them together? Everything was burning around them, and his lover wanted him to stay…

A pained noise escaped his lips. Because he wanted to… Sephiroth was his home, he was where the redhead belonged after searching for so long… But Shinra was going to keep using them, keep using his beloved, keep using him as a bait to bend the General to their whims… And the scarlet-haired First didn’t want to imagine what they could do with his ability to create copies… The image of Sephiroth holding a replica of him, believing it was him, while Genesis was long gone and dead flashed through his mind.

And the older man broke free, because he didn’t want Shinra’s finest to see his tears, to see the horror behind his eyes. “ _NO!_ ” The redhead yelled over his shoulder; scrambling to his feet to run inside the master bedroom and slam the door shut behind him, pushing against it with his waning prowess. Genesis closed his eyes for a moment. This shouldn’t be what they’d come to. Running away from each other. Hiding behind emotions, behind closed doors. He couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried, comprehend where they’d gone wrong, what they’d done wrong. Because they didn’t deserve this.

_“Genesis.”_

And the vocalization was so wrong… wrong on so many levels, and his head was telling him to break through the concrete and steel wall with a spell, to jump because now he had a wing… But no. He wasn’t going to run away from the younger man. Genesis had promised him, promised himself. Angeal’s words repeated in his mind; that they should talk things through, logically. They were adults, both of them intellectuals; logical individuals. Maybe, just maybe, he could make his lover understand without having to share the burden of Project G, without having to feed into the horrendous reality that was the Shinra company. And he believed in Sephiroth. Believed in him with his life.

_“Please, I love you.”_

And the younger man still loved him, despite him telling him earlier that he didn’t like what he was seeing, despite the monster the redhead had become… So, it didn’t come as a surprise when his fingers turned the knob of their own accord; as Genesis stepped back from the door, opening it to come face to face with his lover. Only…

The redhead had but a split second. Those cerise lips were twisted into the most ominous smile the older man had ever seen. And those green eyes he loved so much were clouded by something sinister. His skin blistered and burnt where Sephiroth’s hands gripped him and the next moment, Genesis was flying. In the infinitesimal moment before his back hit the bed, the scarlet-haired First wondered if his wing was going to break at the impact. And the moment he did hit the bed, his brain was drawing blanks because _what the_ ** _hell_** _is going on?_

Terror. Horror.

For a moment, he just couldn’t move. He couldn’t move because maybe if he didn’t, maybe if he played dead, Sephiroth would spare him. _Play_ ** _dead_** _? Spare him? From what?_ He didn’t want to think, didn’t want to continue further down that line of thought. Because _no, this couldn’t be happening._ And then, his reflexes kicked in, his mind going on autopilot, and Genesis was praying to any deity that could hear him for his brain not to go blank, for his consciousness not to fade, because now was _not_ the fucking time for another space out.

And what the fuck was Sephiroth doing? Why was he undressing?

He wanted to speak, to yell at the man currently standing at the foot of the bed, watching him with some morbid fascination. Because Genesis couldn’t accept the answers his brain was coming up with. He couldn’t. The General couldn’t do this to them; his lover couldn’t do this to him. The blue-eyed First tried to back away further, but he’d reached the end of the line. The wing seemed to be moving of its own accord as it curled around him… and there was the sound of more walls crumbling inside him, because the very same appendage he’d called monstrous was trying to _defend_ him.

The look in those emerald eyes was predatory, like Sephiroth was a hunter and Genesis… he was the prey. And the redhead did wish for the younger man to kill him then, to take Masamune and run him through, over and over and over… but no… that was a fool’s hope as the silver-haired soldier spoke, as those cruel fingers curled around his ankle, and the Commander barely resisted the urge to kick it away, only to have those brutal lips pressed against his own. This was so wrong… _so wrong…_ But they hadn’t kissed each other for so long… they hadn’t been intimate together… But they were supposed to talk. For Genesis to make him understand. This was emotional, sensational, not logical.

Raising his hands slowly to tentatively hold the hollows where those pale broad shoulders -that he used to kiss so reverently- met the slender but strong column of his lover’s neck, the redhead pushed with all his might, snarling as he did so. “What is _wrong_ with you?” The Commander rushed after the man, long fingers encircling the younger soldier’s wrists so fiercely it was bound to leave bruises as he straddled the alabaster of wellbuilt thighs. 

When Sephiroth fought back, Genesis was almost steeling himself for his doom, because he was sure that if the younger man kept at it, the redhead’s stamina wasn’t going to hold against his.

Silence met his words, broken only by their harsh breaths. The silver-haired man was avoiding his gaze as he yielded, and for a moment the blue-eyed First couldn’t help but think if he was too much of an abomination for the man currently trapped beneath him to look at; only to find those breathtaking emerald eyes boring into his. And Genesis didn’t bother to bring the mask back on, because enough was enough. They had to start remedying this wound festering between them eventually, and time and time again he’d tried stepping forward to make peace between them. If his lover was going to reject him yet another time, he might as well kill him and be over with it. So, it took every ounce of his willpower not to loosen his hold on the younger man beneath him as that sorrowful noise cut through the tension-infused silence between them, and the Commander wanted to let go, to turn that face so Sephiroth was looking at him again as he said those words, to make him see what he was doing to him, how vehemently he was quaking the redhead’s nonexistent resolve…

Still not letting go, Genesis leaned his forehead against the soft silvery tresses covering a pale temple, watching as the long locks trembled with his every breath before closing his eyes. “Ashayam…” The scarlet-haired First pleaded. “Shinra is laying me off because of what happened in the briefing conference… It’s not long before they’re going to get rid of me… I don’t want you to have to go through more torture just to prolong my existence when I’m still going to die.”

Letting go of Sephiroth’s left wrist, the redhead gently brushed those errant ribbons of moonlight away before placing a featherlight kiss on the hollow below his lover’s ear. “I’m not going to let them use me to get to you. We can run away, together. We can be _free_.” Tilting the younger man’s head so he could see those brilliant emerald oceans, the Commander whispered. “I want to live the rest of my short life with _you_ , beside _you_ … _In your arms_ , not against you, Sephiroth.” He paused. “Leave with me, _please_. You mean everything to me.”

And Genesis was struggling with himself, his voice barely audible as he continued. “ _I am nothing without you._ ”

It felt like an eternity then until Sephiroth’s nimble fingers rose between them to grab his chin, to draw him in a kiss that was so different, so singular from all the others they had shared. Even from the one atop a hill overlooking a small town from what seemed like eons ago. And Genesis couldn’t help but be pulled into it, nearly collapsing under the gravity of it that he had to brace his elbow on the mattress.

It felt like he was giving out his heart, like it was leaving his body to go and reside in the cavity of the younger man’s chest, and the Commander was fine with that. Because after he set foot outside this apartment, after he set foot on the helicopter that was going to take him to Wutai, the scarlet-haired First would be a dead man. He could at least leave the last piece of his shattered soul here, where he knew it was safe, where it belonged, where it was loved. A shudder ran down his spine as those lithe fingers brushed against the vast expanse of his new appendage, and the blue-eyed soldier pulled away to look at the man currently lying beneath him only to have to close his eyes as the General kissed his eyelids over and over again… The overwhelming sense of grief that hung between them was paramount, and if he wasn’t already broken beyond repair, Genesis was sure he could hear the sound of glass exploding as he shattered to another billion fragments. And while there used to be fingers that would piece him back together…

_“I can’t.”_

And the fiery-haired First tried to understand that. Because Shinra was all that the green-eyed General knew, all he’d known since the moment he’d opened those beautiful beryl eyes. He tried to understand and keep his mouth shut, only to open it and mutter a cold, hollow “I see.” He tried not to let the frigidity of the gusts picking up speed inside him reach the silver-haired man as Genesis pulled away, because they still loved each other. Because the Commander respected the man, trusted him, believed in him…

But Sephiroth didn’t. The silver soldier didn’t trust him enough to leave all that he’d known behind, didn’t trust him enough to walk into the unknown with him, instead opting to leave him on his own, to his own devices, against the company who had used them, who kept using them. Against _him_. In the end, the General had chosen Shinra over him. That line, the younger man had drawn to mark the extents of their love.

Betrayal.

His azure lakes iced over, a corner of his lips twitching downwards into the ugliest of sneers.

Sephiroth too, had abandoned him, like everyone else.

Rage rose up inside him, and it was oddly, ironically the very same place they had stood that early morning they’d fought, his voice forming the very same words. Only this time, it wasn’t the same redhead who was speaking them. The Genesis Sephiroth knew was long dead and gone.

“How could you?”

_‘Look at what a good dog he is…’_

And their world turned upside down.

Everything was crumbling around him, and his lungs were burning with smoke, ash and destruction, as those strong immaculate hands pressed him into the mattress, immovable and unstoppable in his advance, Sephiroth settled over him. And it was fight or flight after that. And Genesis chose fight, because he wasn’t going to let the silver-haired man have his way, he wasn’t going to let the younger man _use_ him, to _violate_ him.

And why? Goddess _why?_ The Commander stifled that small voice, tried not to panic as the green-eyed soldier’s hand vanished between his legs.

This wasn’t going to happen.

With a snarl, the redhead kicked as hard as he could, watched with disbelief as the General tumbled over the edge of the bed. For a miniscule moment, it felt like his body was going to disobey him, paralyzed with all the emotions running high in his veins. But then, with blood roaring in his ears, Genesis scrambled to his feet. His breaths were too loud for his liking, but the door was close, so clos-... Something yanked him backwards… not him, his wing -the scarlet-haired First mused for the infinitesimal moment the gravity shifted- and the back of his head slammed against the ground. For a moment, he was seeing stars, the breath stuck in his lungs not getting a chance to escape his lips as fingers gripped his waist before flipping him around with such an incredible ease that it made him feel like a ragdoll. Sephiroth’s shins were digging into his before one strong palm slammed between his shoulder blades, and he had a split second to keep his face from hitting the hard flooring of the younger man’s bedroom.

Genesis fought still, tried to rise up, tried to push back against the hand pressing him against the cold unforgiving hardwood. The realization of what was about to happen to him in the succeeding moments was eluding him and yet at the same time pressed against his psych, against his body; intrusive, unwanted.

The Commander was disgusted with the man above him, and even more with himself… because he had been weak, because he was indeed the lesser being Shinra had made him to be; someone-... _something_ below Sephiroth, something to be used, to be violated and taken advantage of. In that moment, it seemed that the person, the individual inside him vacated his physicality, fleeing to some distant godforsaken place never to be found again. From then on, he went with the movements that were forced upon him; felt the floor dig into his knees and counted the scrapes as they started forming in the epidermis. The redhead didn’t even cry out as the pain bloomed across his clavicle, because he was already in so much agony, and anguish, and suffering and sorrow that this was simply nothing. So, when those long fingers curled around his throat, the scarlet-haired man was grateful because the noises that had been cluttering and rising like bile at the back of his throat were finally being smothered. For a moment, he believed the man mounting him like an animal was going to suffocate him, and the thought was a brief flicker of hope, though it too, was soon extinguished like the nonexistent flame inside him.

Genesis was sure it lasted an eternity. A fucking eternity of… _Goddess…_ The left side of his face was soaking in a puddle of tears, and when it was _finally_ over, when that familiar yet alien grunt broke the silence, the blue-eyed man couldn’t just hold it in anymore…

“ _Sephh-hh…_ ” Because it was ironic really, that Sephiroth actually _did_ murder him. Murdered them. Murdered their love and their trust. Everything they were, everything they’d been.

When the body hit the ground beside him, Genesis just watched, the visage of somebody he used to know and everything just kept blurring… There were weird noises ringing inside the room… someone was crying, screaming like they were dying, like a limb was being severed from them. Wailing and crying and sobbing until their voice was hoarse… And then numbness settled over him, because his voice wasn’t coming out anymore. Because the well of his tears had run dry… If only he could cry blood…

For another eternity he watched, with hollow irises as dust particles descended in front of his eyes, and Genesis wished that they could bury them both there, like the ashes after a volcanic eruption, fatal in its destruction. Everything started blurring yet again. But this time blood flooded his mouth, blood and more blood.

It was dark by the time his body slumped against the hardwood, his knees giving out under his weight, and for the thousandth time Genesis wished to the goddess for death. However, his words fell on deaf ears, because his goddess, too, had forsaken him. Oddly enough, there wasn’t the faint rustle of the abominable appendage… Abominable because he himself was an abomination.

The redhead didn’t know when, how or what… but the next thing he saw was his own bed before he crashed face first into the mattress and cried ‘till oblivion overtook him.  
  
When Sephiroth woke he was alone.

Every muscle in his body was stiff and sore and the floor was crusted with dried blood ranging from a rusty red to greyish black. The sun was pouring in through the windows highlighting the carnage surrounding him. His hair was stiff with coagulated hemoglobin and when he lifted his head off the carpet the world spun. It took him a few minutes to recall the events of the day before. Like serpents, they slithered in from his recollective psyche to wrap around his mental jugular and squeeze until the low, anguished wail that spilled from his lips was nearly animal. Scraping his fingers across the floor...across long scores that were proof of what he had done, the silver-haired man rose to his knees only to curl forward again...shriveling into himself as every facet of his emotive heart crumbled into dust. He had _forced_ himself on Genesis...taken everything that they were and dashed it into pieces like worthless pottery. Taken the body he loved and used it, manipulated it, ra-

Sephiroth retched...staggered upwards and to the door.

The hallway was strewn with blood as he stumbled blindly across it, bile rising in his throat as he collided roughly with the wall next to the bathroom before ripping the door open and collapsing next to the toilet so he could be violently sick. His thoughts spun as he heaved over the rim, his fingers slipping uselessly on the tiles as he shuddered helplessly...as he fell apart again and again while he tried to pull himself together. Eventually, the vomiting turned into sobbing, and it occurred to him that he’d never heard himself make such a sound before...that it was foreign and alien to him. Some part of him was still coldly analytic and calculated in the face of it...strangely detached and externally observant. But he had still _done this._ It didn’t matter what kind of mentality he was in...what he had done was unforgivable...unconscionable...dishonorable. Lost, Sephiroth rose to leave the bathroom, to stagger across the dried blood on the living room carpet to where Masamune was leaning against the wall...drawing its blade from the sheathe with trembling fingers.

He couldn’t do it.

Poised with the heft of the weapon against his throat, the silver-haired man felt despair rise up within him as that black necrosis stretched forth to encompass his psyche...and this time there was no going back. Sephiroth collapsed to the floor, the definition of who he was...who he had ever _tried_ to be trembled and surrendered against the blackness in his soul as it consumed him. Emerald eyes grew emotionless and blank...his lips thinning into a bitter line that would forever mar his face. And the last thought he had as he faded into the monster Hojo had always insisted he was, was the image of agonized sapphire eyes as they looked at him in horror. The General whimpered, gasped and went still…

...and Sephiroth ‘died.’


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

Genesis had come to realize that his body, in its state of degradation, could lose around two bottles of his favorite Vodka before starting to teeter dangerously close to shock.

He had been shuddering from it, the tremors aggravated by the cold water rippling around his failing body in the tub as he’d waded in and out of consciousness.

His phone had been vibrating for so long that it’d finally shook itself over the edge of the sink and onto the unforgiving tiles. Surprisingly, the redhead had been cognizant enough in that moment that he had wished to be like his phone, only to shatter to a million pieces upon impact.

One moment, there had been an insistent knocking at his door, and the next, those wide worried sky blue eyes had been all he could see. The water had been so welcoming, like a mother’s embrace never wanting to let him go as strong arms pulled his shivering body out, and Genesis was just too out of it, too tired to fight back.

When he had ended up in the infirmary, the Commander knew that attempting to kill himself was not an option. Because then Shinra would never send him to Wutai due to his unsettling and possibly unstable behavior. Because they’d have more reason to put him out of commission sooner, and replace him with one of his copies. Angeal’s disappointed and extremely distressed face was also not worth seeing again either. And distressed over who? Over what, to be exact? Because _he_ was not a person. Not anymore.

From the aftermath of his foiled suicide, the scarlet-haired First tried to be on his best behavior. He went to work earlier than anyone, used the stairs because no one else did, for which he was entirely thankful; and hey, he didn’t need to do a morning exercise anymore. Sure, his kneecaps were going to suffer, but he wasn’t going to be around for much longer anyway. Genesis worked until it was late, didn’t go back to his apartment unless he was so tired he dropped dead from exhaustion on the sofa or had drunk himself into an amnesiac stupor.

The space-outs -which he used to dread, which he wished for now, every moment of every day- had left him in peace, or maybe in agony.

Two days before his departure, the blue-eyed First had snuck into Angeal’s office to leave him the letter. And later that day, he’d stopped by his best friend’s apartment to give him ‘the box’.

It had been agony all over again.

It had been hell.

If he had actually managed to pull himself together, which was the most blatant lie of the century, Genesis Rhapsodos had crumbled to nothingness then.

Photos.

And his fingers had been trembling so badly, he kept getting cigarette ash all over himself. And the images, they kept blurring, and why was everything shaking? And who was making these weird noises all over again?

After two packs of cigarettes and a pounding headache that was cracking his skull open, the redhead had deliberated to _dump_ them all in ‘the box’ instead of reliving every single one, before actually putting them delicately inside. Along with the ones he had bought from the press; the ones from their date, every facet of footage they had gotten on them.

Writing _his_ name on the cardboard had been the hardest part yet. Genesis had yet another mental breakdown as the black marker curved over an ‘S’. The fiery-First couldn’t care less that there were going to be these wrinkly patches where his tears had fallen on the package. In the end, he couldn’t do it. In the end, he had hugged it like it was another part of him, something dear.

And it was really.

It was the only evidence that they had been together. That they had been happy.

Once.

A long time ago.

Thinking about it alone had been enough to bring him to the verge of tears as he’d made his way to Angeal’s apartment. And the older man had nearly shoved the package inside those strong arms and ran away, but then again he’d stood there, told his friend to give it to the younger man next time he saw him; preferably after the Commander had left for Wutai.

The day before his departure, they had a briefing. And it’d been five minutes and thirty-two seconds into the meeting that Genesis had been so sick he had to stop his presentation… Shivering from the cold sweat while he’d heaved over the rim of the toilet, he’d been barely intelligible as he’d told Angeal to replace him, to follow through with the conference without him. When he had actually found the strength to drag himself away from the tiles of the bathroom, the scarlet-haired Commander had found himself in the middle of his apartment, or what was left of it.

It’d been the epitome of destruction. On a smaller scale. Or maybe an art exhibit. Because every surface they had touched together, either in moments of platonic intimacy or eroticism was either nonexistent or covered with the oil paints he had found in the back of his closet. From the demolished sofa and bed, to the walls, to the cracked tub in the bathroom. Everything.

He would’ve razed it to the ground if he could.

Now, as he put one foot ahead of another on the roof of Shinra company, Genesis didn’t even turn his head to look over his shoulder.

When the helicopter ascended, azure eyes didn’t even look down at the scenery expanding below. Because nothing was going to greet his eyes but ashes slowly being scattered in the wind.

Whatever he had, whatever he had been... the redhead had already left it all behind.

* * *

Sixteen days.

Sephiroth didn't leave his apartment for sixteen days. During that time, he didn't eat and he barely slept. The silver-haired soldier spent the majority of his hours staring blankly at the walls wishing they would simply collapse and crush him. Realistically, it wouldn't be enough weight, but it was still somehow therapeutic to imagine the molding and steel crashing down around him and turning him into a bloody, boneless smear. In some deranged, unrealistic way he considered it penance...a recompense. It wasn't; not by a long shot, but it was something…which was really a lot like saying it was _nothing…_ but he couldn't think rationally otherwise.

Not that anything he did was even remotely close to rational.

The General spent two days lying where he'd fallen save for bathroom breaks. These petered out halfway through day two and he then dragged himself halfway down the hall before he collapsed next to the bedroom door and proceeded to drag his nails across opposing forearms until they bled; over and over again. This was done for the better part of the third day until he threw up all over the carpet-mostly from hunger and lack of sleep-and was forced to move somewhere else. Sephiroth spent five days in the bathroom holding a razor and marveling at the way it reflected the overhead strip lights. In the end, he didn’t kill himself...but he sincerely wished he had.

It would have been easier all around if he’d run himself through with Masamune.

On the eighth day, he threw his phone in the sink and ran water over it until it sputtered and died. He hadn’t really noticed it going off until that point...but the sound of the ringer irritated him enough that he simply couldn’t stand it anymore. Afterward, he watched the water run over the side of the counter and onto the floor before trying to drown himself under the faucet. By the time he managed to fit his head beneath the spicket, his body realized it was dying of dehydration and it forced him to drink instead. A few minutes later, sitting next to the stove and contemplating how far he was going to sink before he pulled himself out again; he passed out from pure exhaustion.

Sephiroth slept for twenty-four hours.

When he woke up, he felt considerably worse. For one, his stomach was cramping from lack of food and the smell of dried blood was doing absolutely nothing for his nausea. Ritualistically, he began ripping up the carpet in the hallway, his vision swimming as starvation began a slow but steady advance over his cognitive and physical prowess. It was easier to push through it if he focused on what he’d done. On what he’d effectively _ruined._ Genesis was gone...or he would be soon, and the General had no right to seek him out. He wouldn’t. There was absolutely nothing left between them. The mere acceptance of that fact was enough to make him curl into a ball on top of a stack of ruined carpeting and shake until his teeth rattled. Because he was desperately alone...and after not being alone for so long the feeling of being bereft was absolutely terrifying.

He spent two days tearing apart the carpet and sporadically drinking water until he collapsed again.

On the twelfth day, Angeal came knocking at his apartment door. Huddled in a corner next to the stove, Sephiroth ignored it. Ignored it when the knocking became banging, and then became pounding; curled into himself until it felt like the universe was swallowing him whole. And maybe it was. The silver-haired soldier had hated himself before, but that hate was nothing compared to what it was now. He didn’t deserve Angeal, didn’t want to let him in only to betray and disappoint him. Hojo had been right about him seeking out attachments; it was a mistake. It would only hurt the people he cared about and he couldn’t do that anymore. He was better off alone.

By the thirteenth day, Sephiroth couldn’t get up.

Pulling himself up off the kitchen tile caused black spots to bloom in front of his eyes...bile to rise up over his tongue. He trembled with exhaustion...with the effort it took to blink that darkness away...to focus on the fuzzy and tilting fixtures in his apartment. At some point, he realized that he was inevitably dying. Physically dying. The thought didn’t cause him as much alarm as he’d initially thought that it would. After all, what did he have to live for? For SOLDIER? He’d just end up killing his men, like he almost had in Wutai. Sephiroth wasn’t fit to lead anymore...that much was sure. He was a wreck.

He was a _rapist._

The application of the terminology to himself was heinous. Because despite the fact that he was not Angeal, Sephiroth still valued his honor. Now he had no honor. Because a General did not assault his subordinates out of base instincts. A General didn’t try to manipulate the feelings of others to get his way. A General didn’t squander everything he’d gained for the sake of a selfish means to an end. A General didn’t fall victim to scarlet hair and ocean-blue eyes and pale skin. A General didn’t lose himself in the intricacies of physicality, in the utterance of breath...in the poetry of a velvety voice.

_A General didn’t fall in love._

No, Sephiroth was anything but what he claimed to be...what Shinra wanted him to be. Briefly, he entertained the idea of turning himself in....of confessing his crimes so he could face execution. Almost as soon as he had the thought he was forced to dismiss it. Because if he went to Administration and gave light to what he’d done Genesis might suffer for it. He couldn’t condone that. The silver-haired first could condone facing the consequences of his own actions...of laying bare his deeds so that he could at last find peace in one way or another. He even toyed with the idea of going with it to the press, but he couldn’t. Because the man whom he’d done it to would possibly suffer more than he ever would. Hojo might not let him die. Genesis could not suffer anymore.

On the sixteenth day, he was dragged to the labs.

The entourage of decorated Seconds that poured into his apartment was really unnecessary. Sephiroth was so weak at that point he could barely lift a finger. The techs that came to assist took one look at him and went so pale he thought that they might faint. Instead, they radioed Hojo, who came charging twenty flights upwards to backhand him across the face so hard he tasted blood before loading him onto a gurney and ferrying him back to the Science Division. Watching the can lights dash overhead...the green-eyed soldier begged the Universe for death...because what was to come would be ten times worse.

They forced him to eat.

For three days Sephiroth was nursed back to health before he was shoved back into his uniform only to walk twenty doors down to the surgical department to get ripped open again. Furious with his flagrant disregard for life, Hojo took him apart three times before he was evidently satisfied with the amount of damage inflicted. Lazard came and visited him while he recovered; sat by the edge of his bed and simply stared at him...as if glaring at him through his spectacles would somehow give truth to what was going so horribly wrong with him. Angeal tried to visit, but upon catching sight of the dark-haired First, the younger man cursed him...nearly fell out of bed trying to get him to go away.

Genesis’ childhood friend left shaking and looking like he was near to tears.

After that...a sort of nonchalant calm settled over his entire being. Whatever pain he’d garnered from the guilt of his actions dissipated into a monstrous, yawning void. Sephiroth couldn’t feel anything. When Tseng came to tell him they’d moved his apartment two doors down he didn’t protest, merely uttered an emotionless comment of feelingless thanks. The Turk went on to inform him that Genesis had shipped out; the news didn’t bother him as much as it probably should have. Some part of him was irreversibly damaged...he knew it. Hojo didn’t seem to mind...seemed to be pleased with his recovery...and that was all he really cared about. Because if the mad scientist was focused on him, he wasn’t focused on anything else. And if the head of the Science Division demanded that he visit twice a week for reconditioning...he didn’t care.

...Because at least Genesis wasn’t suffering anymore.

* * *

Calling the men to order had been the easiest part. Delivering a speech that would persuade them to join his cause was a wholly different matter. Because as much as he was an influential leader and a well-spoken individual, lectures and public speakings were Angeal’s areas of expertise, not his.

And Goddess-... _No._ There was no goddess. His Goddess was dead. His Goddess was dead since… since… Genesis slammed the door shut on the many memories that had been robbing him of sleep for three weeks now.

And there were so many men. Seconds and Thirds, all standing at attention. Looking up to him.

Icy irises roamed over them, dispassionate, cold. They were pawns, all of them. As he was.

Or maybe, as he had been. And by setting himself free, the Commander was doing them a favor.

“Some of you, I’ve known for many years.” His voice rang out, loud and clear. “You’ve been my peers in classes, my colleagues, my comrades in arms as the Wutai war dragged on over the threshold of years.” Genesis paused, his grip around Rapier’s hilt tightening momentarily. “As year one turned into year two, and soon the years started bleeding into each other and here we are, at the brink of year nine. I know there are also young ones among you. Fresh recruits, rising through the ranks, ready to make a name for yourselves, ready to earn your share of honor, and glory.” The scarlet-haired First looked over them all, wondering how many of them would leave at the end, how many of them would stay behind and fight by his side. He wasn’t very optimistic. Eons ago, someone had told him that SOLDIER’s faith in Shinra was unshakable. The blue-eyed soldier was willing to prove him wrong. Raising his voice, he continued, his stance rigid, fierce, commandeering. “I know what I’m about to say might not make much sense to you, but ask your elders, ask those of you who have served in this war as long as I have, and they **will** tell you that there is **No** glory to be had, there remains **No** honor after you dye your hands with the blood of the innocent, with the blood of men and women, of _children_ who are fighting for their basic rights, for their hometowns, for their families.”

Ah, and here was the commotion. Because this was mutiny. This was treason. And their highest ranking officer was the one uttering these words.

“The very same families who are awaiting you with the justified worry of probably never being able to see you again. This war… Has been going on for **_far too long._ ** SOLDIER’s regime, Shinra’s regime in this land has been nothing but bloody. And for what? A mako reactor, on an island as far away from Midgar as it can be?” Genesis let out a contemptuous huff. “You have been exploited… Your very prowess, your very lives **_used_** for the greed of another; a businessman staying behind the safety of his tower of steel and concrete, staying in the comfort of his home while **You** risk your lives, while **You** slave away under the oppressive heat of the Wutai sun, while **You** fall victim to the never-ending downpour of Leviathan and the untamable terrain of this godforsaken Place!” Slamming his sword into the ground in front of him, the fiery First continued even louder, his hand never leaving the hilt. “We have been fighting on the wrong side, my brothers. We have been deceived for far too long! And as everything has a beginning, it also has an end! My loyalty to Shinra Ends **Here**! On this **Very Day**! In front of your eyes and ears! I Will **NOT** Be a Pawn in this game anymore!”

The commotion grew louder, tension running high, and the urge to smirk was really hard to suppress as the redhead schooled his features into neutrality. Raising a hand, he asked for silence.

“From here on out, You are **Free** from under my Command. Those of you who wish to leave me, can join Commander Hewley’s or General Sephiroth’s brigade or turn against me.” Challenge flickered in his irises before being smothered in a blink of an eye. “Those of you who wish to stay, are very welcome… Because my Loyalty to SOLDIER would never cease to exist. You will be my comrades as you have always been, my brethren. With you, with your help, we will bring this tyranny to its knees! Make it realize that the power allowing it to flourish day after day, lies in **SOLDIER** , not in the money flowing through those incapable fingers!”

Yells erupted in patches of the many men in front of him, while the others were whispering amongst themselves. Genesis didn’t fault them, it wasn’t an easy decision to make. Raising his hand one more time as he yanked his sword free with the other, he added. “With those of you who will stay, we shall leave at tomorrow’s dawn.”

For the next night and day, The Commander lay awake in his tent. Not out of a fear for his life were his subordinates to assassinate him. Nor because of the seemingly never-ending commotion that circulated around the camp. The scarlet-haired man simply couldn’t close his eyes without being forced to relive the events of that day again and again… He had tried, only to wake up kicking and screaming for a particular silver-haired man to stop. The lack of sleep was not doing his body and mind any good. The ever-present fatigue was another unwelcome entity besides the black lianas of degradations that were starting to cover the entirety of his being, another parasite. And Genesis wanted to shake them off, but he already knew they would all come back, and come back crushing and staggering. So he yielded. Resigned himself to the cruel claws of fate.

On the eve of their departure, despite the persistent demands of his second-in-command for a headcount, the scarlet-haired ex-SOLDIER watched almost all of his men board the military transfer jet. Seeing those who were standing by, watching, the desire to see their blood coating the ruby of his sword was really tempting… There was an urge to approach them, to make them kneel and cower in fear in the face of the horrendous reality of his monstrosity, but he didn’t. He couldn’t, at least not yet.

Because he had a pretense to maintain in front of those who had left with him. It had been easy to lie through his teeth, to pull on their strings with words of honor and glory, because those men… they were still human.

Genesis Rhapsodos was a monster.

So he let apathy wash over him, his features falling back to a cold disinterest as he turned his back, the last person to walk over the metal grating of the cargo door as it started to close.

Monsters had neither dreams, nor honor.

Inside him, the dark curdling suppuration oozing from the incurable gash was tainting his very existence, polluting and infecting and contaminating until there was nothing left but decay and rot.

* * *

“It seems that Commander Rhapsodos has defected.”

Sitting to the left of the President, Sephiroth tried to appear shocked. It was much harder than he thought it would be. His face didn’t particularly want to comply, as was common these days, and the way his lip twitched as his visage morphed into one of false incredulity was so see-through he was surprised he wasn’t court-martialed on the spot. Thankfully, the rest of the room’s focus was on Lazard, who was looking more and more haggard every day. Hewley made a strangled, desperate noise, and Fair immediately clasped his shoulder...those giant blue eyes wide with outrage and disbelief. The President was silent and sullen, and the disdain that came with this realization was nearly enough to make the silver-haired soldier send the table flying into the great, floor to ceiling windows at their backs. Several of the more veteran higher-ups hemmed and hawed until the green-eyed First was sorely tempted to rip their teeth out by way of the top of their skulls.

“That’s impossible.”

Genesis’ childhood friend spoke in a hushed voice, his tone husky and broken. Turning his gaze to the older man, Sephiroth schooled his expression into neutrality. Angeal shot him a pleading look, a look that said _‘Back me up.’_ But he couldn’t back him up. He knew the truth, had known the truth sooner than anyone in this room. It didn’t make it hurt any less...in that small, slightly humanistic place he’d shoved deep down...but he knew that the man before him was in agony. Because Hewley and Genesis had joined SOLDIER together with equally ambitions dreams, with their sights set ahead and not behind. The dark-haired First couldn’t conscience the news because he didn’t know anything about the circumstances leading up to it, and Sephiroth was not about to tell him. Turning to the Director, the General opened his mouth.

“Do we have any proof of this?” He asked flatly.

It was an erroneous statement, but he did it out of deference. Because he respected Angeal, and Angeal deserved to know the truth. Slowly, wearily Lazard turned; fiddled with the projector specs until the machine lit up and threw rays of pixelated images forward onto the whiteboard in front of them. And there was their proof. Dressed in red leather, incomprehensibly magnificent considering what he’d been through. A part of Sephiroth snarled in indignance, because the man on the screen was _his…._ not that of those who fawned over him from the crowd of defectors beneath. Every facet of the Commander was his and his alone and he would not allow-

“-General!”

The man in question blinked, startled somewhat when he realized he had risen halfway out of his chair and had one hand on Masamune’s hilt. Two Turks had started forward from their shadowy corners with their guns drawn. Tseng gestured for them to stand down. Lazard was frowning at him, but it was an understanding sort of frown.

“I understand that this is upsetting.” He said calmly, and Zack snorted. “But right now Rhapsodos is public enemy number one. We’re to bring him back here for questioning; to detain him and make sure this never happens again.”

“You can’t possibly expect us to hunt down one of our own like a common criminal!” Angeal spat.

“Rhapsodos is no longer ‘one of our own’!” The President snapped. “He is a defector! A scoundrel! A criminal! No better than the filth you slaughter on the battlefield!” A growl rose up in Sephiroth's throat before he could stop it, and the rotund man glared sweatily at him before looking thunderously at Lazard. “Tell Hojo to get his dog under control, there’s been far too much unrest in this company already. I haven’t been able to eat for an hour!”

“You must be starving.” Zack said flatly. “Sir.” He added when Angeal elbowed him fiercely.

“The Commander took a third of our men.” Lazard continued hastily. “The _former_ Commander.” He amended when the President looked like he was going to explode. “Our goal is to isolate him...to draw him away from the force he’s garnered. We don’t want to kill good men if we have to.” He glanced at Heidegger, who raised an eyebrow. “We’ll break for ten minutes so I can have a word with the Turks. Dismissed.”

Sephiroth had made it halfway out the door in the direction of the coffee machine before Angeal caught him by the elbow and tugged him back. Wrenching himself away, the General spun to face his fellow First with an impassive expression. Raising a silver brow, the younger man let his expression settle into an irritated sort of neutrality. Angeal looked momentarily wounded by his reaction, but quickly recovered. Jerking his head to the left, the dark-haired First indicated for them to step into a relatively secluded hallway that was-for the moment-deserted. When The Puppy tried to follow, both men glared at him until he appeared to visibly droop before heading towards what the green-eyed First knew was a complimentary snack table. He could practically hear the sounds of the President masticating from where they stood.

“We can’t do this.”

Angeal’s dulcet tones cut through his distraction like a knife. Blinking, Sephiroth frowned at the distraught man before him. The logical part of him understood why his fellow First was so overwrought; this wasn't an easy decision. But feasibly, if they brought Genesis in...maybe they could find a cure. And while he knew that all his chances with the redhead were off the table, that didn’t change his desire to see him healthy...to see him alive. Even if they never spoke again, he’d be content with knowing Genesis wasn’t going to die a painful death somewhere cold...somewhere where he was alone.

“We have our orders.” He said tonelessly.

The older man recoiled like he had in the VR room, staring at him like he didn’t know him at all.

“Genesis is our _friend!”_ He hissed. “ _Your lover!_ You can’t do this to him! We have to convince the Brass to pardon him! He’s not...he’s _not right._ You didn't see him before he left, he practically died, I think he was trying to kill himself!”

And that tiny...humanistic remnant of him wailed at the idea of the redhead trying to kill himself. Because the world would be a horrible, horrible place without Genesis Rhapsodos. Narrowing his eyes, the younger man steeled himself. And that was exactly why his answer wouldn’t change.

“Do what you want.” He replied. “A good SOLDIER does what he’s told.”

He had to step back when the dark-haired First pushed him backwards, made as if to come at him, a snarl on his face. Turning his head Sephiroth braced himself for the impact...because he deserved it…because this at least he could feel. It was therefore somewhat of a surprise when instead of feeling a fist, a thick, square envelope was pressed into his chest. Looking downwards, the silver-haired soldier recognized the elegant handwriting immediately. His mouth abruptly dry, he looked at Angeal in confusion, but his fellow First’s expression was shuttered...closed off. The General understood, in that moment, that he had lost Hewley’s respect.

He told himself it didn’t hurt.

“Sometimes,” Angeal said coldly. “There is a difference between being a good SOLDIER, and a good _man.”_

He left.

Swallowing, Sephiroth reverted his focus to the envelope in his hands. He didn’t want to open it. Not because he didn’t want to see what was inside, but because this was something Genesis had touched. It felt somehow like a violation to put his fingers on something the redhead once had. Thumbing the bracelet at his wrist, the silver-haired soldier exhaled unsteadily, bringing the item in question to his nose and inhaling. The scent that washed over his olfactory sense was enough to send him reeling. He slumped against the wall and had to fight the urge to pitch himself off the top of HQ...because when would this pain _go away?_ With trembling fingers, the green-eyed first slid unsteady digits beneath the flap...watching as it pulled away only to have to fumble desperately as a tidal wave of photographs nearly flooded onto the floor.

Sephiroth very nearly screamed.

Because _every single picture was a memory._

Genesis standing outside the onsen in Mideel, his head tilted cockily to one side as he grinned at the camera. The General had taken the picture himself, remembered how happy he’d been when he’d consented to do so. The two of them sitting in the back of the truck on the way to Banora. This was a picture taken on the redhead’s phone...hastily snapped by their impatient driver. Sephiroth asleep, his face a picture of dreamless somnolence as he lay spread over scarlet sheets...a slender-fingered, calloused hand pressed against the small of his back. Genesis standing on the balcony, a cigarette dangling from his fingers as he stared out at the expense of Midgar….his expression contemplative. Genesis spread out on Sephiroth’s bed, his face flushed in the aftermath of pleasure as he smirked sleepily at the hapless cameraman trying to capture the egress of a final moment. Sephiroth laughing-he didn’t remember this particular picture-his head thrown back as his hair fell in a waterfall down his chest; he appeared to be sitting in the Commander’s office. The two of them, smiling into the camera...standing on the bridge where they’d had their first date, their _only_ date-

_-Enough._

The General dropped the envelope like it was on fire. He followed it to the floor, his back sliding against the wall as he stared in empty horror at the one opposite it. Green eyes were suffused with agony as he attempted to collect himself-couldn’t-began to shake uncontrollably as the truth of what he’d lost hit him once more and swallowed him like a black wave. Someone was saying _‘Sir!’_ but he couldn’t concentrate…couldn’t focus enough to see who it was. Because Genesis was _gone,_ Genesis had left him...and rightly so. And he would never see that smile again...never witness it again. Because he had broken it, irrevocably and unquestioningly. And the pictures scattered on the floor felt like the proof of the dark necrotic stain he’d left on every facet of their relationship...a relationship that should never have been.

_“Sir!”_

Sephiroth gasped as reality hit him like a freight train, as he was thrown into cognizance as if doused in cold water. Nauseous, he had to fight to keep from being sick...and he was _sick_ of being sick. Fair was crouched beside him, one hand extended as if to offer assistance. Vaguely, he was aware that Angeal was watching them from the end of the hallway, that despite his anger and his words he was still _worried_ for him...still cared about him but knew well enough by now that keeping his distance was for the best. Shakily, the silver-haired first gathered up the pictures and shoved them back into the envelope; stood on unsteady legs despite the aid that was so obviously being proffered.

“Thank you, soldier.” He said gruffly. “Please return to your mentor.” Turning to the exit, Sephiroth paused. “Please inform the President that something urgent came up, but I will execute whatever orders he might have in terms of apprehending the Commander.” He swallowed thickly and began to walk away. “Dismissed.”

He was aware of the eyes at his back but didn’t look behind him. He couldn’t afford to let either man know how much this was affecting him...couldn’t afford to show weakness. He had done Genesis the injustice of falling in love with him...he would not allow others to fall victim to being close to him. And as the elevator doors slid shut, the General acknowledged that it was all probably for the best...it was better to be alone…

...Sephiroth didn’t keep the pictures.

He burned them.

* * *

Genesis had branched his men. Two thirds of them were staying in Modeoheim after leaving the rest here with the redheaded Commander. The abandoned town on the northern continent would make for a really good base. Aside from the awful climate, they had houses, an equally forsaken mako reactor, pretty much everything they needed. Maybe they had Shinra to thank for that. The blue-eyed soldier couldn’t care any less.

The battalion remaining with him had settled some good miles away from Banora. The former First planned on overrunning the town, but that had to wait until Angeal joined him. The warehouse would also be a good base for his men, but not yet…

It was proving harder and harder every day to live as he used to. It was harder still to suppress the urge to charge right in and kill all the ‘inhabitants’ of the peaceful and quiet town; as some specific silver-haired man had put it. None of the people living in that place were ‘inhabitants’. None of them. Shinra spies. Shinra lap dogs, that’s what they all were.

What a big stage they had set to hide their malefactions. Thinking about the amount of money they would pay to cover up their fucked up ways, the drastic measures they’d take to tie up their loose ends, made his lips curl, made him want to vomit.

Humans.

Opportunists.

Greedy little goody-two-shoes.

He had lost all hope for them.

Even his best friend was another monster, just like him. If he had been one of them, Genesis might have reconsidered, might have tried to persuade himself that there was still some good left in the plague that was humanity. But it wasn’t.

It was the poison running through his veins… the black insidious taint that was swallowing him whole… Humans had brought this upon him. They had birthed the very monster that was walking toward the Rhapsodos mansion with undivided purpose. Thinking that a quaint little life could tame him… thinking that making him fight their wars for them would distract him from finding out the truth about himself… Underestimating him...

It made his blood boil…

It made him see red…

He was sick of this. Sick of breathing this very air that left him weaker and weaker with each passing second, that intensified the dull ache encompassing his physicality with every beat of his failing heart. Sick of the anger that had no outlet and was eroding him from within, slowly but surely.

_*Bang*_

Genesis kicked down the door, Rapier materializing in his hand. The alternative scenarios were running in parallels through his head, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, apathy following his every movement like a shadow. He was tired of hearing that derogatory voice, tired of all the abuse, of having the illusion of family dangling right in front of his eyes only to have it pulled away at the last moment. He was so thoroughly fed up with everything and anything that had ties with Shinra that he couldn’t see reason anymore.

_‘My soul corrupted by vengeance…’_

Swatting aside the servants that stood in his way, he nearly ripped the door to the study open, a savage smile marring his pale features. The memory of that night came crashing down in front of his eyes, making him stagger with the pain and the bittersweet leftovers of his feelings for somebody he used to know. It felt like a punch to his gut, making him gasp, sobering him up for a moment, before rage suffused him yet again… Heedy, intoxicating. He couldn’t get the image of Rebecca smiling at him with that predatory expression away.

Genesis would show them who was the predator here.

“Genesis!” Mortimer exclaimed, rising from his seat with an expression of utter horror, eyeing the rifle hanging on the wall on top of the fireplace. And it made the alien impotent fury gnash at his innards, crawling and clawing his way up to his lips before escaping in an animalistic snarl. Because _how dare he?_ This wretched excuse of a person, this _human_ , thought he had a chance against him? He thought a bullet could put him down? That all his years of suffering mako showers and injections were all for nothing? Not to mention how disgustingly shallow Mortimer was, how lacking in terms of mental faculties that it would be an insult if one was to compare them.

_‘You’re in a league entirely your own.’_

And the redhead was, indeed, at least superior to the man standing in front of him with barely contained fear. The very same man who had played a part in his past life crumbling into shambles… because if they hadn’t-...

The scarlet-haired man hadn’t known he had such an affinity for anger as he slammed the door on that thought… that life was long gone, as dead as his past self, but he could still take his revenge. He could still exact the rage that he was drunk with, the fury with which he desired for more.

The elder lunged toward the gun, and for an infinitesimal moment, the image of a Genesis lying on the carpet, bleeding profusely flashed in front of his eyes, making two opposite sides of him engage in a never-ending conflict inside him. But being the monster that he was, survivalism won over; and really, Mortimer wasn’t worthy of being the one who bested him. The older man wasn’t worthy of the very air he was breathing, he wasn’t worthy of being called his father.

 _Unworthy_ , the scarlet-haired soldier decreed before moving forward in a flash of red and black, slamming the head of the Rhapsodos household against the wall.

The sickening crunch of a spine cracking was music to his ears, matching the screams of the other two occupants of the room in a macabre symphony of death.

There was the staccato of heels running behind him, Rebecca fleeing for her life. But oh no, that wasn’t going to happen.

Letting Mortimer fall to the ground in a boneless heap, Genesis gave chase, nearly tripping over his feet and the carpet as Sephiroth’s hallway flashed around him, an unseen hand at his back trying to pull on his wing, to pull him back. The yell that left his lips was something primal, twisted and pained, wholly unknown but the redhead righted himself, quickly catching up with the woman who had kept glancing at him over her shoulder with an expression of utter terror.

Standing in front of her, and towering above, the Commander gripped those slender arms.

_‘How does it feel, I wonder?... To be in love with someone so utterly superior to yourself?’_

The bitterness of the sneer twisting his lips was seeping into his mouth, acrid, venomous. Rebecca tried to struggle, tried to punch him, kick him, but the scarlet-haired man wasn’t feeling anything, wasn’t budging. Tilting his head, red-clad fingers curled around a dainty neck, squeezing harder and harder as he lifted her off the mosaic, swatting away her hands as they tried to gouge his eyes out in self-defense. “ _Mother…_ hmph. How undeserving you were for all the times I called you such. How undeserving of all the love I was trying to give you.” Her attempts were getting more frantic, less purposeful as her consciousness was beginning to fade. With his other hand, he petted her hair, watching how those brown curls that were glimmering under the lazy rays of sun tangled around his fingers before he twisted them, letting go of her neck.

The way she sagged forward, wheezing and coughing for breath made the predatory smile stretch further on his sanguine lips. Lowering himself, Genesis pressed his cheek to the side of her face, his voice an almost inaudible whisper. “You’re equally as undeserving of a quick merciful death… Pity that I don’t have time to waste on a lowly being such as you.” Rising to his full height, the blue-eyed man twisted his grip on his blade, raising an elegant eyebrow as he inquired. “Any last words?”

He didn’t wait for her to open her mouth. A flash of red, and carmine droplets were flying through the air, suspended like perfect spheres of ruby before hitting everything and anything, soon to pool under the dying heap at his feet.

He let his head loll backwards, the feeling of an exacted revenge, the smell of copper as exhilarating as ever. Maybe he could get used to this. To this unrestrained glee of bathing in the blood of those who had wronged him… in the blood of humanity.

And then he set azure irises on his _father_.

Genesis didn’t know what came over him when he saw the unmasked horror in those grey eyes. By the time he was finished, the Rhapsodos mansion had turned into a bloodbath, the unfortunate servants who hadn’t managed to run away found no mercy, no reprieve at the edge of his blade. Surrounded by the masterpiece of a carnage he had elegantly created, covered in the blood that was starting to dry on his pale skin, the crimson-haired man dropped to his knees, tilted his head back, and screamed.


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

The spacious apartment was quiet except for the sounds coming from the bedroom. Angeal Hewley stood by the bed, putting the neatly folded clothes inside his duffel bag, as well as the array of various materias and potions he’d deemed necessary for his upcoming mission.

He stopped, his gaze taking in the dark room he’d come to know by heart after all these years. The shutters were pulled to one side, letting the light coming from the bustling city illuminate the room, albeit slightly and dimly. His eyes lingered there. Even without looking, he knew there were places completely devoid of dust below the window where his plants used to be. He had looked for people who’d been willing to take care of them in his absence. Only...

The past weeks had been hectic, crazy. First, his best friend had tried to kill himself… No matter how hard he’d tried, the raven-haired First couldn’t erase the image of the redhead bathing in his own blood, how that powerful and strong body looked so frail as shock wracked it with tremor after tremor. And then Sephiroth… The last person on Gaia he could’ve imagined trying to take his own life. Well, not in the same flamboyant fashion his comrade had tried, but not any less severe. The only reasoning Angeal could come up with that could reduce two of the most strong-willed individuals on Gaia to such extremes was the love that had recently sparked between them. The sable-haired soldier was sure that something had gone _utterly_ and _terribly_ wrong between them. His suspicions were confirmed when a Genesis who had been on the verge of tears had come to his apartment to give him a thick envelope, asking him to deliver it to the redhead’s lover after he was transferred to Wutai.

The Banoran’s questions had fallen on deaf ears as he’d tried to ask his childhood friend what was going on between the two of them, his offers for help if there was anything he could’ve done turned down, so he’d been left with a withdrawing scarlet-haired First and his well of worries. And to make it worse, the General was detaching as well; or maybe it was better to say, the younger man was lashing out in hopes of Angeal alienating him. If the Commander hadn’t seen the green-eyed soldier’s earlier days, those efforts would have been successful. What was obvious to him, regarding both of his rather idiotic friends was that they were both grieving, over what, Goddess knew, but whatever it was, it was so severe that it had Sephiroth crumbling down a wall in a semi-secluded corridor in the middle of a busy board meeting concerning the defection of his redheaded friend.

After the conference had been over, the raven-haired soldier had had to face his own disbelief in the loneliness of his office; because what could possibly drive Genesis to leave everything that had been his dreams once, to leave everything he’d striven for, worked so hard to achieve, and not only that but his best friend and his lover, behind…? The Genesis he knew wouldn’t just up and leave, wouldn’t do that without at least telling anyone, without telling him… Because they had been in this together, started this together, been almost inseparable every step of the way.

And now, Shinra had started a manhunt for the redhead. And Sephiroth hadn’t refused… And Angeal just couldn’t wrap his head around it, around how the silver-haired First could do this to the very man he’d claimed he loved. Didn’t the General know that if they brought Genesis in, the Brass would execute him on the spot? No matter how he’d run the various alternatives in his head, the blue-eyed soldier hadn’t been able to come up with a different outcome. And the despair he’d felt had been crippling; enough for his fingers to shake as he’d opened the drawer in his office desk to take the framed photograph of their first day at initiation. But there had been something wrong with the photo… Well, not exactly, but something had been pressing against the back of the frame.

And there, he had found it.

The letter Genesis had left for him had been short; written in the half-assed language they had invented all those years ago back at Banora because his childhood friend wanted to send him letters and didn’t want his parents to know anything about what they’d been talking about. It took him a couple of tries to get it right after all these years, but in the end, the dark-haired man had figured it out.

_I’m sorry. I’ll explain everything. Waiting for you at Fort Tamblin mission. Don’t tell Sephiroth._

And he’d burnt it and flushed the ashes as he’d deliberated. Trying to keep his mind clear had been the hardest part. Because he was going against everything just for Genesis; going against the company, going against Sephiroth, his protégé, his own honor.

He stopped that train of thought, shaking his head as he placed the last item inside the bag, zipping it closed.

Closing the doors to the large closet in front of his king-sized bed, he was about to go out into the living room when his phone started ringing, its vibrations muffled by the sheets on his bed. Frowning, he turned around on his heel, long strides carrying him to his phone where he picked it up.

Lazard’s number was flashing on the screen.

Flipping it open, he put it on speaker as he answered. “Hewley speaking.”

“Commander Hewley, I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but I’ve just come out of the meeting with the board. Your position for Fort Tamblin mission has been canceled. Based on the info provided by Turks, there have been suspicious activities around the Midgar, which requires all the Firsts to stay here at the headquarters.” Lazard’s weary voice filled the empty house, and Angeal had to bite his tongue not to interrupt the director as he was informed of the sudden change in his plans.

“I understand, director.” His voice came out a bit too forced, and he had to consciously loosen the hand that had curled into a fist by his side as he continued. “But if we succeed in the mission tomorrow, it’d mean a decisive victory and an end to the war. I’m sure whatever those threats are, it’s nothing the Seconds and Thirds couldn’t handle; and there’s also the infantry.” He was about to ask about the arrangements he’d made with his squad, but the director beat him to it.

“I understand your concerns, Commander, but I’m afraid the decisions have been made, and since it’s a direct order from the President himself, there’s nothing I can do. But rest assured that your squad, along with Soldier Second Class Fair are still going there after this blows over, and they’re scheduled to join with Sephiroth’s brigade and yours as soon as they land. The mission to capture the Fort is still Go, and if your pupil succeeds, he might be promoted to First, as well.”

Angeal gritted his teeth, because this was definitely a ruse... a very transparent and see-through order for them to be grounded. There was nothing he could do; if he insisted too much, the director would get suspicious and his plans for meeting with Genesis on the island would be foiled without even having started. Also, that’d mean putting his childhood friend at risk. “I see.” He deadpanned, defeated.

“I’ll schedule a meeting with the two of you soon. Until then, you’re to stay on standby and at the headquarters 24/7. Understood?”

He had walked toward the open kitchen during Lazard’s monologue, sat behind the counter and listened, his blue irises burning holes in the unfortunate sofa in his line of sight. “Yes, sir.” Angeal begrudgingly accepted, his tone betraying his annoyance, but nothing of the anger at having his plans thwarted.

He barely heard what the director said afterwards, his unseeing eyes staring at the far wall of the living room even until the shrill beep of their ended conversation droned on in the background.

The raven-haired First had wanted to go to the island as quickly as he could, before his friend’s absence in the military would give everyone enough reason to put him to death, if it hadn’t already. He had to find a way to go there soon, to talk to the redhead, and maybe if Shinra guaranteed his friend’s life, persuade him to return… He had to find a way to make Genesis see reason, to remind him of the things, the people who cared for him that were still there, waiting, willing to protect him at all costs; that despite his going rogue, there was still a slight possibility that Shinra would take him back, because SOLDIER loved the redhead, and so did the people. This all made the Banoran more determined but for now, he had to wait. The problem was that he had no means of telling Genesis that he wasn’t coming to Wutai. Not yet anyway. To tell him to lay low and wait for a better time.

There was an uneasy feeling slowly uncurling in the pit of his stomach.

Angeal knew that his childhood friend would be more than capable of handling himself were things about to get dirty, and that he wouldn’t be fighting on his own, since most of his brigade had also defected with him, but still, the blue-eyed First couldn’t stop worrying. He couldn’t stop the ‘what-if’s that were popping up in his head with each tick of the clock on the wall in front of him.

He sighed, a hand sweeping down his face wearily. It seemed that Genesis had to wait.

Angeal only hoped against hope that he’d get to the scarlet-haired man first before it was too late.

* * *

Genesis had come back from Banora with a squad of his Seconds, leaving most of his men back in the outskirts of the town.

Wutai. This god-forsaken country. He was supposed to meet Angeal here, and hopefully showing him his wing and telling him about their pasts, would be enough to persuade the raven-haired First to join his side of the fight. If not, at least he could try to make him see the truth, to make him see that the company who had been using him by the leash of dreams and honor his childhood friend had willingly wrapped around his own neck, was corrupt beyond imagination.

He had no one left now.

If Angeal too, turned his back on him, he had nowhere to run. Something inside his heart told him that his raven-haired friend wouldn’t do that; his best friend had never abandoned him, never. This time was no different, was it? But then again, his treacherous heart had convinced him to do many a foolish mistake before; had convinced him to believe things that had been nonexistent.

The men Genesis had brought only to distract Shinra’s finest and anyone who dared stand in his way, not as a means of helping him in the fight. He hadn’t even planned on getting into a proper fight. A minor one, sure, but he sure as hell hadn’t planned on engaging with the demon of Wutai, an entire battalion, or Wutain forces for that matter.

He had gotten rid of his phone long ago, left it somewhere in some quagmire and watched as it descended never to see the light of day again. He’d covered his tracks well considering there had been no disturbances back at Banora, or on his way back here. Everything so far had been going according to plan. Genesis had been certain that the raven-haired First was going to come to Wutai as soon as he could find a chance to schedule a mission here.

And from the looks of it, he hadn’t been wrong in his assumptions.

The ex-SOLDIER bad been spying on Angeal’s brigade for days while the men had been preparing an attack on Fort Tamblin as they’d been laying siege on the city for weeks now. Sephiroth’s men, too, must have started moving as they’d planned in advance, preparing a surprise attack from the other side.

What he hadn’t foreseen was when the helicopter landed, and instead of his childhood friend, a number of Thirds had emerged.

Angeal, too, had betrayed him.

With acrid poison pouring down his throat, Genesis had turned his back, he had moved quickly, as quick as the pain consuming his deteriorating body allowed him to, as quick as the sorrow that crippled his soul, that rose up to constrict his throat allowed him to and yet, it hadn’t been fast enough.

From then on, his plan had crumbled to pieces. Just like his world. Just like his life. Just like himself.

Instead of the yacht that should have been waiting for him in the private harbor, he was facing about two battalions of SOLDIER and infantry -Heidegger’s men- with enough artillery to bring down the headquarters itself.

Maybe it was because of the long sleepless hours he’d tossed and turned in his cot; maybe it was because of the images that were now an almost constant companion of his waking hours bleeding into the dead of the night; but whatever it was, despite the muted protests ringing in his head, the Commander had decided to fight back, even though, deep down, he had known that it was a losing battle. Maybe finally, that half-alive half-dead part of him that was still laboring on the brink of death had won.

What did he have to lose now, anyway? He had hoped that-... _No._ That had been a fool’s hope from the very beginning.

Everyone had turned their backs on him. He only had himself.

He was Genesis Rhapsodos.

He wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

So, Genesis threw Ifrit at them, scourging them with hellish flames. And as they fired at him with bullets and materia alike, he’d activated his Wall, deflecting the rest that whizzed past him with the ruby of his sword, rushing forward to break their line of bones, metal, and flesh. Letting the bloodlust overtake, he didn’t waste a split second to contemplate that these men had once been the same people who’d fought with him side by side, whom he might have passed by in the headquarters a hundred times, because right now, his own survival was what mattered; the desire to live the only thought at the forefront of his mind.

While he would have preferred to save his magical reserves, the constant dispelling of his Wall made him spend more and more on keeping up the barrier. The contemptuous smirk never leaving his lips as he continued killing one adversary after another, keeping to one hit, but fatal crippling blows. A flimsy flame of hope started kindling inside his nonexistent heart as he saw their numbers dwindle in such a short amount of time.

That too, however, like the fire once burning inside him, was extinguished as more men rushed in from the woods, completely blocking their escape. His men started falling one by one, and it wasn’t long, -or maybe it was, the scarlet-haired soldier hadn’t been keeping a track of time- before he was all alone.

Genesis cursed under his breath, gritting his teeth as he contemplated taking the easiest way out; the sky. Letting the Wall get dispelled yet again, he summoned Apocalypse and willed his wing out as inferno rained down from the welkin, charring bodies and trees alike. Smirking at the screams and the smell of blood and burnt flesh surrounding him, he was about to soar to the heavens when the surge of an explosion hurled him forward, a white-hot pain engulfing his entire torso, setting every nerve on fire.

A sticky dampness was crawling lazily down his left ear, and all he could hear was static. All he could see was the moment the back of his head hit the hardwood and a pair of foreign green eyes were watching him with a cold calculated curiosity before that expression morphed into an ominous look of hunger.

It took every ounce of his physical and mental prowess to push against Rapier’s hilt and back on his feet.

Everything was swimming as Genesis glared around him, looking for the coward who had launched that stick grenade until he saw what was remaining of his wing. Through the unshed tears that were blurring his vision, the blue-eyed man could see the jagged broken bone, protruding from a mess of blood and feathers, the rest of it nowhere to be seen.

A wave of nausea and bile rushed up the back of his throat, agony wracking his body, making his synapses fire rapidly to do something about the searing pain, to force his body use the same regenerative power he once had to heal the mutilated appendage.

Pressing his eyes shut as he attempted to activate yet another Wall, the muffled screams of the men lying around him, half dead and scorched along with the constant ringing in his ears clouded his already pain-addled brain, and right before he could draw upon his reserves to cast the spell, he thankfully heard the click of a gun this time around.

Swinging his blade, he deflected the bullet aimed at his dominant arm at the very last moment, the movement throwing him off balance, making him stumble backwards. Genesis concentrated on the direction the bullet had come from, and soon Firaga was hurtling toward the densely packed forest.

The grunts and screams coming from that direction made him smile against his suffering, the mirth fleeting as even more men surged forward.

Gripping his faithful sword harder, the ex-First swung at them, his ruby blade cutting through them like butter despite the now ever-present protests of his tiring body, the tell-tale signs of his stamina giving out. The number of men coming at him like hyenas circling a wounded lion left him no time to cast anything as blow after blow, the blue-eyed man was forced to dodge, parry and attack. Shallow cuts had started appearing on his arms and his legs, when all of a sudden another excruciating pain nearly brought him to the ground, and the redhead had to bite his lips to stifle the cry that nearly escaped his throat.

The bullet had hit him in the knee. The same knee he had bent when he’d asked a certain someone to go on a date. Their first date and the last. Because, now, the scarlet-haired soldier was sure that he was going to die here. Cruel emerald eyes flashed in front of his eyes and Genesis swung his fiery sword in a semi-circle, making those vultures back away, even though momentarily.

And it hurt to keep going. To drag this still breathing, still bleeding corpse forward through every moment of every day... Everything, his body, his heart, his soul was in agony… But he was already dead, so it shouldn’t have hurt… it shouldn’t have mattered… Because Sephiroth had already murdered him in their bedroom and where was the man he had fallen in love with when Genesis needed him… where had he been that day… If only any of these men were brave enough to carve his bleeding heart out… To leave him here to rot, to decay and disintegrate into the fine specks of sand underneath his boots, to be washed away with the ebb and the tide, the passage of time his probable remedy...

A kick connected to the joint where his wing met his body and the scarlet-haired soldier fell, leaning heavily on Rapier that was now embedded in the sand. A standard sword grazed his throat as Genesis raised his chin proudly, azure eyes glaring defiantly at the infantry in front of him with all the hatred and contempt surging through his veins.

Because he would bow to _no one_ -...

-Something hit the back of his head hard.

And his world went black.

* * *

Sephiroth had no memory of Shinra ever worrying about a terrorist attack.

Sitting in a lounge near administration, the silver-haired First tried to enjoy the coffee currently cooling in the cup in his hands but found it mostly tasteless. There were many things he found mostly tasteless these days...things he used to enjoy but associated too much with the delirious happiness he was no longer deserving of. Frowning, the silver-haired soldier set the mug aside with a feeling of disgust. Really, _anything_ he did was incapable of bringing him happiness lately...every facet of the things he used to cherish happened to be intertwined with memories of Genesis. Simple things like doing paperwork, training, even _sleeping._ Realistically, he’d been sleeping alone since their argument about Hojo but it was an understood distance...a distance that still had the potential to be closed.

Now, there was nothing he could do to make things right.

Glancing to his left, the General watched in a detached manner as Hewley shifted impatiently, his gaze narrowed. He could somewhat relate. According to Administration, they were being sequestered to HQ for their own safety. Short of a meteor strike that wiped out the entire planet, Sephiroth was unsure of what could possibly be more dangerous than either of them, but the idea of getting out on the battlefield made him want to vomit. Not because of the men he might lose, but because of the singular fact that the last battlefield he’d been on he’d shared-however unknowingly-with a certain redheaded Commander. So, really, it was fine for him to play the ‘lapdog’ role as long as he didn’t have to relive any painful memories in order to do it.

Hojo was true to his word.

Twice a week Sephiroth was called down to the labs, and twice a week he was put through a reconditioning so intense he could barely remember his own name when he got out. The scientist wasn’t happy with tearing him apart...not anymore anyway. No, the deranged doctor made it last...he went slow. Hojo dissected him delicately; piece by piece...like he was an art project and not a human specimen. The sight of his blood slowly...gradually sluicing into the collective basin at the base of the gurney would forever be embedded in the General’s mind…as would the pervasive feeling of cold, unforgiving metal. The pinch of surgical tongs against his flesh was like the virulent hiss of a whispered curse…digging, pushing, curling... _pulling._ The smell of copper, the taste of saliva as it pooled in his throat from lying down too long.

It was necessary.

Or so Sephiroth told himself. It was penance…penance for everything he’d done...everything he’d tried and failed to do. As the weeks passed he grew numb to it...learned to shove it down beneath the tattered corners of his psyche so he could just _breathe._ And it was barely breathing….it was like breathing the most noxious of fumes...dredged up from memories wrought in horror and agony. Logically, the silver-haired First knew that he couldn't survive like this; that eventually, something had to give. As dull as he’d managed to make himself to physical pain, the pain in his head was ever-growing. The dark thoughts he’d so valiantly tried to push back simply _sat_ there, though thankfully, they didn’t grow any bigger. Instead, they just gnawed at him until they created an ache in his bones that never ceased...never gave him reprieve. At night it was worst; when he was alone and unoccupied and staring at the ceiling of his new apartment he was left to wallow in a sort of half-conscious bog of evil possibilities. He wondered-hysterically-if this is what murderers and rapists faced every night when they lay down...that hunger…the memories of their victims. Because now he could count himself among them in a sense of the word, and it seemed like his psyche would offer him no repast.

“Sephiroth, you need help.”

Angeal was looking steadily at him; those blue eyes fraught with worry. Tired...Angeal looked _tired._ The General wondered when such a change had come over the older man without him noticing. Involuntarily, he felt his lip curl up into a sneer. Because this was not the first time someone had suggested he was turning into a basket case. Lazard had approached him with the idea of resignation, of retirement. Because Sephiroth _‘was failing in his duties in every sense of the word’._ Upon his statement, the silver-haired soldier had nearly leapt over his desk to strangle the Director. Because he knew _full well_ that Shinra had driven him to this point, to the brink of madness only to offer him nothing in return. And maybe a few weeks ago he would have embraced the idea of putting his sword away, so-to-speak. But now he had nothing to put it away to pursue.

“I don’t need help.” He muttered, lowering his head so his hair shielded his face.

Angeal sighed.

“Yeah, Sephiroth, you do. I don’t know what happened between you and Genesis, but you’re….not dealing with this. You’re trying to shove it down and it’s driving you crazy.”

There was the creak of leather as his fellow First shifted. “But I can’t force you, hell if I’m strong enough to force you to do anything. But you’re going down a road...and I don’t see that road leading anywhere but death.”

_Death._

The General felt a grin creep across his lips before he could stop it. Because _death_ would be a release, death would be a reprieve. Death would be exactly what he deserved and yet…he didn’t deserve it. Because Sephiroth wanted death like he wanted air to breathe. And if he’d thought for the merest of moments that death was something he could justifiably pursue...he’d have already done it himself. But the idea of his own demise was something he desired, and he couldn’t give into something he desired...or so he told himself. Because as much as the green-eyed soldier was good at giving in to his urges, he was also aware that this at the very least was cowardice.

And Sephiroth was not a coward.

“So be it.” He said flatly.

“Yeah…” Angeal said slowly. “That was _not_ the answer I wanted to hea-”

-He stopped abruptly as the sound of booted feet became apparent. Sephiroth watched with idle interest as his fellow First stood, his face a mask of confusion. As he did so, a squadron of Seconds came bursting into the room, tailed by several techs and a very confused-looking Zack who gave his mentor a _‘hell if I know’_ look before stationing himself by the door. Deciding he might as well rise too, the General did so, turning to give the men an impassive look that had half of them looking as if they might faint on the spot. Most of them were nervous-he observed-though for what reason he couldn’t exactly tell. The silver-haired soldier also sensed that they were not the only force gathered to handle whatever was going down. He frowned, maybe the terrorist attack _was_ serious; but with that in mind, _why_ hadn’t they been called to serve?

“You’re needed in the labs.” One of the techs deadpanned.

Sephiroth blinked. Because he had just been to the labs _yesterday_ and had only recovered early this morning. Apparently, Hojo’s bloodthirstiness knew no bounds. Still, it was entirely unnecessary to send an army to retrieve him, he would go quietly.

“Very well.” He murmured stepping forward. “I will go now.” He glanced at the assembled force. “This-” He gestured at the men. “-Is unnecessary, please keep that in mind in the future.”

“We need both of you.”

This drew him up short. Because what could Hojo possibly want with Angeal? For a moment, an image of the dark-haired man strapped to a gurney flashed across the General’s mind. No, he couldn’t allow that...and while Hollander was gone, there was no reason his fellow First couldn’t have a different doctor examine him. Looking coldly at the forces before him, Sephiroth estimated that it would take him maybe five minutes to dispatch all of them. Fingering Masamune, he acknowledged that that would be the end of him...but at least he would go out defending someone honorable…someone who deserved to live. A firm hand on his arm gave him pause, and he looked to the side to see Angeal had drawn level with him, a calm expression on his face.

“You can’t do this.” Sephiroth said flatly.

Angeal ignored him.

“Where to gentlemen?”

* * *

His world was now disjointed flashes of extreme darkness and light. One moment he was awake, waves of agony hitting his already wrecked shivering body in the dark dank cell, and the next he was lying on a cold -was it metal?- surface, a blinding light glaring above him as he tried to grasp at the threads of consciousness and reality.

Somewhere, Genesis could hear himself saying something, an incoherent mumble, calling for someone, something, but through the haze, he couldn’t remember who, he couldn’t remember what.

The redhead didn’t know if he was dreaming; but when he was lying there under the strong fluorescent light, he could see himself, like he was hovering outside his body, staring dispassionately as those hands cracked his chest wide open, various tubes latching to his body, filled with bright eerie fluids. He could see himself screaming and scraping his wrists and ankles raw against the shackles binding him, as they operated on his knee without even sedating him.

Genesis didn’t know if it had been hours, days, weeks or months since that fateful day in Wutai, his nights and days blurring together in a sea of sorrow and pain. His dreams were nightmarish as they had been for what seemed like an eternity now. He didn’t care about any of these. He didn’t care about anything anymore… Least of all himself… The Commander was tired… exhausted… on the brink of sanity, teetering dangerously… But he couldn’t, shouldn’t… The urge to give up, to succumb to despair and hopelessness and helplessness was so strong, so tantalizing, within the reach of his very fingertips... And then there was _him_ ; those cerise lips curling into a predatory smile, those beryl oceans filled with something dark and insidious flashing in front of his eyes just before he jolted awake, screaming. So, the next time they dragged him out of his cell, he tried to fight back against the welcoming claws of unconsciousness.

What greeted his eyes was more than enough to jar him back to reality. Hojo stood before him, his figure swimming somewhat and hazy around the edges, the sneer he always wore plastered on his lips.

The former First rushed toward the old man, wanting to erase that smirk from that face, to wrangle the last living breath out of that scrawny neck. But the men accompanying him yanked him backwards, and while he was struggling to no avail, one of those white-coats ran to bring something, either to put him out of his misery entirely or to make him _compliant_. The word made his lips curl.

“I’ll kill you!” The scarlet-haired soldier spat, to which the madman in front of him only let out one of his famous maniac cackles.

“I see our ways don’t work on you.” Fixing his glasses on the bridge of his nose, the professor continued. “Such a shame, because they work really well on your lover boy. Or are you not together anymore? I think finally those sessions worked out in the end, didn’t they? I worked so hard on his discipline; day and night, you see. And if a pitiful Hollander pet hadn’t interfered, all had been going well. However, whatever effect you might have had on him was gone with two weeks of being fully immersed in reconditioning, after your _date_.”

The blue-eyed soldier went lax in the arms holding him back, his eyebrows drawing in as he tried to make sense of what Hojo was telling him.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” There was another shrill peal of laughter. “For the entirety of your little tryst, I was reconditioning him. I assume he didn’t tell you? I wonder what else he didn’t tell you about.” The professor taunted.

And Genesis realized all those nights he came back to find the younger man on the brink of ruin, Sephiroth had been returning from a session with his sadistic caretaker. And the redhead wanted to fly into rage, because why hadn’t _he_ told him? When had they started hiding things from each other? Why had _he_ lied to him when _he_ ’d given him _his_ promise? Why didn’t anything make any sense anymore… How had the silver-haired man who had been so fearful for the Commander’s life that he’d decided to offer his own to the devil of a man currently in front of him, changed so drastically? What had happened to the green-eyed soldier who had been trying to protect him, to protect what they had from Shinra, from anything that could so much as threaten it, by taking any means necessary? And it made him want to collapse right then and there… to weep, to wail, because how much he had loved that man… because without Shinra and Hojo and Project G, they could have made all those images Genesis had conjured come true… And it was already too late...

Everything was long dead and gone…

There was an image slowly unfolding in front of his eyes, horrendous, nightmarish; of another Genesis Rhapsodos walking over the face of Gaia, talking with Angeal, being a Soldier First Class, obedient and pliant, and inside those strong arms… only to be used and violated again...

He needed to survive this place, he needed to get away. Soon. Now.

A pinprick pain brought him out of his reverie, and the ex-SOLDIER found a trembling hand pushing the plunger further down the syringe. The redhead snarled, breaking out of the arms holding him back, and swatted that offending scientist aside like a fly.

Dashing forward and wrapping his hands tightly around Hojo’s neck, Genesis smirked, matching that of the vile man in front of him. He had cast a barrier around himself, not needing the materia as long as he could draw on his already waning powers. Around him, they were trying desperately to find someone, anyone who was mako-infused enough to use materia, to dispel his Wall. And the blue-eyed soldier wanted to laugh before he felt a tingling sensation spreading in his hands and feet.

He was sure that for a fleeting moment, panic must have flashed in his eyes as the smirk grew on Hojo’s already purpling face. Genesis tried pushing harder but his muscles were no longer obeying him, growing lax, slowly but surely. Dread filled his mouth, cold and black and thick as muck. Backing away, he stumbled, falling to the ground.

He wanted to yell, tried to summon Rapier but kept drawing blanks. When that failed, he tried summoning Apocalypse, Firaga, anything, _anything_ for Goddess’ sake. But his Goddess had long since stopped hearing his pleas, had long since stopped answering his prayer. His Goddess too, was long dead and gone, like everything else. And his mind was already too clouded by whatever drug they had given him, his thoughts scattering no matter how hard he tried piecing them back together.

In front of him, Hojo was gasping for breath, coughing and rubbing his neck, before advancing toward him with a menacing look, his smirk nearly cracking his gaunt face in two.

Genesis willed his wing out and tried to flee.

But, ‘his wing had melted in the sun’ was his last thought before darkness overtook him.

* * *

Genesis stood there, in his signature attire, or whatever was remaining of it. He was standing with his legs shoulder-width apart, his hands clasped and tied behind his back, and a gag was tied tightly around his mouth.

He was going to stand an unofficial trial with only the President present. Meaning that he was just going to receive their decree and everything was over. No protesting, no defending his actions, nothing.

Or that was what Hojo had explained to him after he’d woken up, all dressed up and bound. Genesis hadn’t believed a word.

Execution. The redhead was sure of it. It didn’t require a genius to know that.

He had tried to struggle, to which Sephiroth’s caretaker had chuckled and explained that they had given him something that would weaken him, magical and physical prowess alike. Despite what the scientist had said, Genesis hadn’t stood down, for which he had received a good beating from the multitude of security detail they had called in.

Oh, and a couple of mild sedatives that only made his movements sluggish this time, instead of knocking him out cold.

The ex-SOLDIER had finally calmed down, if it could be called that, lying on the ground and trying his damnedest to get up on his feet, to uncurl from this pathetic defensive stance his body had assumed. He’d asked for a minute so he could speak, which he had efficiently used with a litany of colorful swear words.

Now, aside from the lab assistants, the throng of security surrounding him, there were also two Turks. And the mad doctor had yet to rear his ugly head.

Genesis stood there, defiantly watching the metal staircase leading down here, which seemed to be a basement somewhere, probably the labs, dimly lit, unlike the last room he had been knocked out in.

When the President and Lazard arrived, the scarlet-haired soldier stood with his head held higher still. A sneer would have stretched his lips if he could, instead the redhead looked down at them through bows of coppery lashes.

Because Hojo had lied yet again… The blonde director was arguing with the Shinra and if he hadn’t been gagged, Genesis would have spat in their faces. If he wasn’t tied up and drugged, he would have made them understand that despite everything they’d brought upon him, despite how they’d been using him all along, and despite his degradation, he wasn’t broken still. That he’d bow to no one, most certainly not the President and the company who had taken _everything_ he held dear away from him.

_Never._

When President Shinra informed the director of SOLDIER that they were awaiting the rest of their posse to pass his decree, the redhead knew something was terribly, utterly, unmistakably wrong here. He hadn’t known how wrong until he heard many footsteps against the metal ceiling, two of them more distinct, more familiar; one brisk and another resounding. There was another set approaching him from behind, but Genesis couldn’t care any less as he recognized the footfalls descending the staircase.

His heart plummeted. His azure eyes went wide.

He knew that gait with his eyes closed; he had known it for years.

Time seemed to stretch into almost a standstill as he saw the black of that unique trench coat flapping around those boots, his vision blurring uncontrollably as tears welled up in his eyes.

Because Genesis Rhapsodos wanted to scream, to thrash against his bonds, but…

* * *

Sephiroth was familiar with the Science Division in the way that someone was familiar with a beloved piece of furniture.

Not that there was anything particularly ‘beloved’ about Hojo’s domain, and he’d never developed any very fond feelings for furniture whatsoever...but the similarity was still there. The General was raised there, he knew every secret nook and cranny, every place that was good to hide until they started tracking his heat signature. There was a particularly spacious air duct to the left of Surgical that he could no longer fit in, and, when he was _very_ young and particularly brainless, he had once crawled into one of Hojo’s desk drawers and whiled away the better part of the day. The result of that particular escapade was a beating that he would never forget, and the man whose office he’d hid in took to locking it until he was older and much less stupid. He took to hiding with Gast when he could, until Hojo decided that the older man was too much of a threat and disposed of him like he’d disposed of so many others.

Angeal didn’t speak to him on the way down.

Sephiroth was fine with that, because the more distance they put between each other, the better. The dark-haired First was never fully going to be his confident under any circumstances in any case, as he couldn’t simply tell him he’d violated his childhood friend and expect them to be on halfway decent terms. With that hanging between them, he couldn’t in good conscience desire any form of friendship. It wasn’t merely ignorant, it was insensitive and selfish. Because Sephiroth did not deserve to have friends while his former lover was alone, dying, and without emotional support. No, if anything good came out of this, it would be the fact that Sephiroth would never be close to anyone or anything again as long as he lived.

It was somewhat of a surprise when the troops didn’t lead them down to the labs.

Instead, they took them to the left of Hojo’s usual stomping grounds and down a narrow corridor he’d never particularly bothered to explore. The silver-haired soldier had always assumed it led to some sort of storage room. He was-as it turned-very wrong. The hallway sloped deeply downwards, growing darker as they descended before eventually coming upon a wrought-iron door. Sephiroth’s instincts screamed at him within, telling him to turn back, to attack, to do _something_ other than obediently follow. Angeal was looking equally apprehensive. The massive, steely entryway groaned inward, and the silver-haired soldier startled somewhat when Tseng stepped out to greet them. The dark-haired Turk gestured for the General to go ahead...before his fellow First; he did so reluctantly.

The first thing that hit him was the smell of blood.

The air around him was inundated with it, suffused with it. The last time he had smelled so much blood was when-Sephiroth jerked himself out of his thoughts roughly; he couldn’t afford to think of that, not now. Maybe Shinra was finally getting rid of them? The thought occurred to him as he glanced down the massive, spiraling iron staircase before him. It seemed to go on forever, down into black depths that were minimally lit...though it didn’t particularly matter considering the amount of mako in his system. Angeal touched his shoulder and he hissed a warning before beginning his descent...slowly, dread creeping up to grasp him by the throat. Well...fine. If Administration had finally ordered his death, he wasn’t going to stop it. But maybe he could bargain his life for Angeal’s. He’d go peacefully, without killing dozens of men as long as the dark-haired First was set free and he had physical proof of it.

Yes, that would work.

Blood was practically visible in the air. It wasn’t...but with enhanced olfactory senses...it might as well have been. The aroma of it was cloying in its intensity; dizzying and just on the side of too-familiar. Sephiroth had never been able to identify individuals by their hemolytic fragrance before, but this particular fragrance was painfully familiar to him. Stopping midway, the silver-haired man gritted his teeth. No. It couldn’t be. He was imagining things...again. The butt of a rifle poked his back and this time, he knew it wasn’t his fellow First. The urge to turn around and rip the invisible person behind him’s head off his shoulders was very strong...but he resisted. Another step, another and another and the arched entryway to whatever room they were coming to became apparent. There was the rustle of leather, the ragged draw of breath; the wet, sickening inhale of fluid-suffused lungs. And now Sephiroth knew what it was... _who_ it was that was waiting for them...because now he could smell him. His smell was embedded in his memory, tattooed on his cells and injected into his veins. It took only a moment for him to spring into action, to rush forward...ignorant of the feet that hastened to pursue him. More steps, more and more and then _out._

Genesis looked at him.

Genesis, who was covered in blood and bruises...gagged, battered and broken. Genesis who could barely see with one eye open; that brilliant slash of sapphire like a beacon in the darkened room. Genesis who was on his knees, swaying...barely conscious and brought down from the glory that he’d once had. Genesis who could recite poetry like it was the most tangible of melodies...the most masterful of sonnets. Genesis who could smile and make the world recede with the parting of his lips, the laughter spilling over his tongue. Genesis whose hair was like the brightest of flames, like the blaze of fire in the midst of a darkened forest...whose skin was as pale as moonlight...shadowed now with whatever was making him sick and stained with bruises. Genesis who looked at him and then appeared to shrivel inside, to shrink and fade away into nothingness. Genesis...whom Sephiroth loved with every fiber of his being; a captor, a victim...a _partner._ Genesis....whom Hojo was approaching from behind with a loaded and cocked gun, a sickening smile on his face.

Sephiroth’s foot hit the bottom step.

There was a retort, the explosion of gunpowder.

Blood spilled over the gag as shock filled those cerulean eyes. Sephiroth heard himself gasp something from far away, heard Angeal do the same. That lithe, graceful body he’d held so many times crumbled to the ground and the crowd gathered before it scattered as the General lunged forward, as he knocked a tech who was too slow into the far wall. There was sickening * ** _crunch_** * as the man’s spine was shattered...as he slid down the cold iron plating and did not move. The silver-haired man was heedless to it, heedless to how every gun in the room was now pointed at him as he threw himself downward...as he crawled in what seemed to be a sea of blood to grasp tattered red leather, to draw the twisted form before him into his lap and try to cover the wound that was currently spilling what looked like gallons of hot, crimson liquid onto the floor. Genesis was shaking...fading...his eyes rolling back before focusing on him...focusing on his face. Those fingers twitched, appeared to try to reach for him before going limp and a low moan spilled through the gag until the younger man ripped it away. And the name that spilled from those lips was garbled, wet and strangled...but the green-eyed First still heard it.

“ _S-seph-roth._ ”  This was not happening. Squeezing his eyes shut, Sephiroth willed himself to wake up, to be torn from this awful dream into the world of the living. Because Genesis was not here, he was not dying in his arms. He was away...away somewhere safe, probably cured and not missing him at all. The redhead he knew was long gone, in a beautiful place forgetting Shinra...not in the dregs of their basements bleeding rivers onto the floor. Because nowhere in the blackest of his nightmares would this end here, would the redhead end here.  “ _L-look at me damn you._ ”

Wet, warm fingers touched his cheeks...dragged across his jawbone before flopping back onto the frigid cement.

Sephiroth looked.

Genesis smiled.

And it wasn't a kind smile...or a loving smile. It was a smile of resignation, of defeat, of egress. It was a smile that said _enough_ , that everything was over. It told him to let go...to understand, to see what he couldn't see until it was too late to do anything else. And when Sephiroth opened his mouth it was to hear himself beg; in front of a room filled to the brim with tyrants, he begged the redhead not to leave him alone; to at least not _die._ But those eyes were already closing; heavy, exhausted under scarlet gossamer lashes. A hush seemed to descend over the room save for Angeal, who made a low tortured noise not-unlike a wounded animal. That leather-clad chest rose once, twice...then fell still.

And Genesis Rhapsodos died.

Holding an empty, soulless body in his arms Sephiroth felt something inside of him shatter. Some faceted, brilliant part of him that was bolstered by Genesis’ mere existence exploded into thousands of multi-hued fragments that seemed to force their way through numb and unresponsive lips in the form of a howl. There was the **_*click*_** of numerous guns being cocked, but it didn't matter. Rising, letting the personless husk tumble to the floor, Sephiroth stared at his _true_ enemy...and drew his sword. Rage suffused his psyche as the Director of SOLDIER, and the President stepped back...as the men advanced. Someone was shouting something... something desperate and a little familiar, but he ignored it. It didn't matter. Genesis was dead.

He charged.


End file.
